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LECTURES ON EDUCATION 



DELIVEEED AT THE EOYAL 

INSTITUTION OE GEEAT 

BEITAIN 




LONDON 

JOHN W PABKER AND SON WEST STRAND 

1855 



N X? v 



LONDON: 

SAVILL AND EDWARDS, PEINTEES, 

CHANDOS SIBEET. 



/ 6^1 



3o 
PREFACE. 



TT7HEN the Managers of the Eoyal Institution 
* " decided, early in the present year, upon the 
delivery, after Easter, of a series of Lectures on 
Education, they appointed a sub-Committee to make 
the necessary arrangements. 

In accordance with the usual practice of the Royal 
Institution, the number of the Lectures^was unavoid- 
ably limited by the number of weeks between Easter 
and the termination of the session; and the subjects 
of the Lectures could not be altogether determined 
by the Committee, but in some instances were neces- 
sarily left to the choice of the Lecturers. Each Lec- 
turer, alse, was at perfect liberty to treat his subject 
in his own mode; and no communication upon the 
course to be pursued took place between the different 
Lecturers. 

Hence arises the limitation of the subjects and the 
want of mutual connexion between the separate 
members of the group of discourses here presented 
to the reader. Whatever advantage may be thus 
lost is, however, perhaps counterbalanced by the 
increased authority which is derived from so many 
and such considerable names being found pleading 

5 



PREFACE. 



together, though, independently of each other, the 
important cause of Scientific Education. 

It appeared desirable to the Managers that the 
widest circulation should be given to these Lectures ; 
and each Lecturer, by placing his manuscript at the 
disposal of the Committee, has conferred an addi- 
tional favour on the Members of the Royal Institution, 
and has rendered possible the publication of the 
present volume, which it is hoped will materially assist 
in promoting the extension of Scientific Education 
among all classes of the community. 



Eoyal Institution, 
October, 1854. 



CONTENTS. 



LECTURE I. 

Page 
ON THE INFLUENCE OE THE HISTOEY OE SCIENCE UPON 
INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. BY W. WHEWELL, D.D., 
F.E.S ....'.. 3 

LECTUEE II. 

OBSEEVATIONS ON MENTAL EDUCATION. BY PBOFESSOB 

FAEADAY, LL.D., E.E.8 39 

LECTURE III. 

ON THE IMPOETANCE OF THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE AS A 
BEANCH OF EDUCATION FOE ALL CLASSES. BY BOBEET 
GOEDON LATHAM, M.D., F.E.S Ql 

LECTURE IV. 

ON THE IMPOETANCE OF THE STUDY OF CHEMISTEY AS 
A BEANCH OF EDUCATION FOE ALL CLASSES. BY 
CHAELES G. B. DAUBENY, M.D., F.E.S 117 

LECTUEE V. 

ON THE IMPOETANCE OF THE STUDY OF PHYSICS AS A 
BEANCH OF EDUCATION FOE ALL CLASSES. BY PBO- 
FESSOE TYNDALL, F.E.S 171 

7 



CONTENTS. 



LECTURE VI. 

Page 
ON THE IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY AS 
A BRANCH OF EDUCATION FOE ALL CLASSES. BY 
JAMES PAGET, F.E.S. . 215 

LECTURE VII. 

ON THE IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF ECONOMIC 
SCIENCE AS A BRANCH OF EDUCATION FOR ALL CLASSES. 
BY. W. 3. HODGSON, LL.D. 263 



ON THE 

INFLUENCE OF THE HISTOKY OF SCIENCE 
UPON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION: 

A LECTURE DELIVERED AT THE ROYAL INSTITUTION 
OF GREAT. BRITAIN, 

Before H.R.H. Prince Albert. 



WILLIAM WHEWELL, D.D., F.RS. 

MASTER OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 



B 



ON THE 



INFLUENCE OE THE HISTOBI OE SCIENCE 



INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION, 



THE managers of the Royal Institution having 
determined to provide for their members and 
others a series of Lectures upon Education, and 
having expressed their wish that I should offer to 
the audience here assembled any views which may 
appear to me suited to such a purpose, I venture to 
do so, relying upon an indulgence which I have 
more than once experienced here on similar occa- 
sions. Of such indulgence I strongly feel the need, 
on various accounts, but especially on these two — 
first, that being so unfrequently in this metropolis, I 
do not know what trains of thought are passing in the 
minds of the greater part of my audience, who live 
in the midst of a stimulation produced by the lively 
interchange of opinion and discussion on the promi- 
nent questions of the day, to one of which what I 
have now to say in a great degree refers ; and next, 
that in this hall, where you are accustomed to listen 
[ 3 ] B -2 



DR. WHEWELL 



to the most lively explanations of scientific dis- 
coveries, illustrated by the most skilful and striking 
experiments, / have to present to you a series of 
remarks on subjects more or less abstract and vague, 
without being able to aid my exposition by anything 
addressed to the eye. The pictures which words 
can give of abstruse and general mental conceptions, 
when they alone form a diorama on which the mental 
eye of an assembly is to be directed for a whole hour, 
always appear to me to be in great danger of fading 
away into a dream of cloudland or a vacant blank. 
However, as to that point, I have an advantage in 
speaking on th<* History of Science, which is my pre- 
sent subject, m this room. To those of you who are 
in the habit of coming here, the walls must appear, 
from their customary aspect, to be hung with pictures 
which illustrate my theme. The striking facts in the 
history of science which you have presented to you in 
this place, week after week, are illustrations, in particu- 
lar cases, of the general views which I have to offer to 
you ; and if such expressions as experience and theory, 
discovery and generalization, Baconian ascents to com- 
prehensive axioms, and descents thence to wonderful 
works — if such expressions be in danger of being to 
others vague and empty sounds, to you they will be, 
I may trust, all enlivened and embodied by what 
you have again and again seen here. 
[4] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



The subject on which I am desirous of making a 
few remarks to you at present is this 3 The Influence 
of Scientific Discovery upon Intellectual Education : — 
the influence of the scientific discoveries of any period 
upon the intellectual education of the succeeding 
period : the influence, that is, of the intellectual 
achievements of one or two gifted men, at various 
epochs of the world's history, upon all those persons, 
in the next succeeding generations, Avho have aimed to 
obtain, for themselves or for their children, the highest 
culture, the best discipline, of which man's intellec- 
tual faculties are capable. I wish to show that there 
has been such an influence, and that it has been great 
at all periods; that is, at all those periods of intellec- 
tual energy and activity which come within the con- 
ditions j of the terms ; — all periods which have been 
periods of discovery. I wish to show that this in- 
fluence has been so great, that its results constitute, 
at this day, the whole of our intellectual education ; — 
that in virtue of this influence, intellectual education 
has been, for those who avail themselves of the means 
which time has accumulated, progressive ; — that our 
intellectual education now, to be worthy of the time, 
ought to include in its compass elements contributed 
to it in every one of the great epochs of mental 
energy which the world has seen ; — that in this re- 
spect, most especially, we are, if we know how to 
[ 5 ] 



DK. WHEWELL 



use our advantages, inheritors of the wealth of all 
the richest times ; strong in the power of the giants 
of all ages ; placed on the summit of an edifice which 
thirty centuries have been employed in building. 

Perhaps I shall most simply make myself intelli- 
gible by stating plainly and frankly a proposition 
which I wish to illustrate by various examples, as it 
has been exemplified in various ages and countries. 
The proposition is this : That every great advance in 
intellectual education has been the effect of some 
considerable scientific discovery, or group of dis- 
coveries. Every improvement of the mental disci- 
pline of those who stand in the forefront of humanity 
has followed some signal victory of their leaders ; 
every addition to the means of intellectual culture 
has been the result of some extraordinary harvest, 
some more than ordinary bounty of the intellectual 
soil, bestowed on the preceding years. 

Without further preface, let us proceed to ex- 
amples. The first great attempt made for the im- 
provement of intellectual education, so far as history 
tells us, was that undertaken and prosecuted with 
persevering vigour by Socrates and Plato. The aim 
of those philosophers was, I say, mainly and pecu- 
liarly, an improvement of the intellectual education 
of their countrymen. The Athenians of that time, — 
I mean, the more eminent and affluent classes of 
[6] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



them, — had already an education in a very consider- 
able degree elaborate, and large and elevated in its 
promises. The persons by whom this education was, 
in its higher departments, conducted — the teachers 
whom Socrates and Plato perseveringly opposed — 
have been habitually called the Sophists ; because, 
though at the time their ascendancy was immense, in 
the course of ages Plato's writings have superseded 
theirs, and he so describes them. But it has been 
shown recently, in the most luminous and striking 
manner, by one among ourselves, that the educa- 
tion which these teachers professed to give, and fre- 
quently gave, was precisely what we commonly mean 
by a good education. It was an education enabling 
a young man to write well, speak well, and act 
efficiently, on all ordinary occasions, public and pri- 
vate. The moral doctrines which they taught, even 
according to the most unfavourable representation 
of them, were no worse than the moral doctrines 
which are most commonly taught among ourselves 
at the present day, — the morality founded upon 
utility ; but many of them repudiated this doctrine 
as sordid and narrow, and professed higher principles, 
which they delivered in graceful literary forms, some 
of which are still extant in the books which we put 
in the hands of the young. 

Such were the Sophists, against whom Socrates 



DR. WHEWELL 



and Plato carried on their warfare. And why did 
Socrates and Plato contend against these teachers ; 
and how was it that they contended so successfully, 
that the sympathy of all posterity has been with them 
in their opposition ? It was because Socrates and 
Plato sought for solid principles in this specious teach- 
ing, and found none. It was because, while these 
professors of speaking well and acting well imparted 
their precepts to their pupils, and exemplified them 
by their practice, they could not bear the keen cross- 
questioning of Socrates, when he tried to make them 
tell what it was to speak well and to act well ; they 
could not tell Plato what was that ' First Good, First 
Perfect, and First Fair/ from which everything else 
derived goodness, beauty, and perfection. Socrates 
and Plato were not content with illustrations, they 
asked for principles ; they were not content with 
rhetoric, they wanted demonstration ; it was not 
enough for them that these men taught the young 
Athenian to persuade others, they wanted to have 
him know, and to know what he knew. These were 
the demands, as you will many of you recollect, that 
recur again and again in the Platonic Dialogues. 
This is the tendency of all the trains of irresistible 
logic which are put in the mouth of Plato's imagi- 
nary Socrates. What do we know ? How do we 
know it ? By what reasoning ? From what princi- 
[8 ].. 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



pies ? These questions are perpetually asked. They 
are never completely answered. The respondent 
always breaks down at some point or other ; and then 
Socrates says, with his calm irony, ' How disappoint- 
ing! How vexatious ! We are where we were ! We 
must begin again. We have not yet found what 
we were seeking. We have not yet got hold of the 
real and essential truth/ 

And what was it that had put Socrates and Plato 
upon this eager and obstinate search of a real and 
essential truth ? How was it they could not be 
satisfied without it ? Why might not that which 
had been taught by the wise and eloquent men of 
previous generations suffice for their generation ? 
Why must their inquiries go further than the in- 
quiries of their ancestors had done ? This real and 
essential truth which they sought, what had put the 
notion of it into their heads ? What had made them 
think that such a thing could be found ? Had they 
seen any example of such truth; had they seen any 
specimen of this treasure, which they sought for with 
so vehement and persevering a quest ? 

Yes : for this is the point to which I wish to draw 
your attention ; they had seen specimens of this trea- 
sure. They had had placed before them examples 
of real and certain truth ; they had been admitted 
to contemplate clear and indisputable truths; truths 
[9] 



DR. WHEWELL 



which they could demonstrate to be true ; truths 
which they could trace to principles of intuitive evi- 
dence ; truths which it did not appear to be speaking 
too highly of, if they called them necessary and eternal. 
Such truths they had already seen and known ; 
for they had known some of the truths of geometry. 
No doubt some of these truths, — the truths of geome- 
try, — some casual and happy guesses — had been known 
at a much earlier period. Pythagoras had known that 
the squares on the two sides of a right angled triangle 
are equal to the square on the third. But the lore 
of Pythagoras, imparted in a mysterious manner to 
an initiated few, had long crept stealthily among the 
secret societies of the Italian coast, and hardly made 
its way, in any considerable degree, into Greece, till 
it was introduced by Plato and his friends. But 
the age of Plato was an age of great geometrical dis- 
covery in Greece. The general body of geometry, 
such as it exists to this day, was then constructed. 
Plato himself was an eminent geometer, not only by 
geometrical discoveries which he made, but still more 
by his clear and strong perception of the importance 
of the study. He repeatedly exhorts his fellow- 
countrymen to pursue this study ; he promises that 
it shall lead them to a true view of the heavens ; he 
discerns how this is to be done ) he points out new 
branches of mathematical science which must be 
[ lo ] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



constructed for this purpose ; he repeatedly refers 
to the Definitions, the Axioms, the Proofs of Geo- 
metrical Propositions ; he writes over the gate of the 
gardens of Academus, where his disciples meet to 
listen to his teaching — Ov^eig ayto/mtrpnTog ugitu). 
'Let no one enter who is destitute of Geometry/ 

And why this requirement ? Why this prohibi- 
tion ? What was the need of Geometry for his 
disciples ? What use was he to make of it ? What 
inference was he to draw from it when they had it? 

Precisely the inference which I have mentioned; — 
that there was a certain and solid truth ; a knowledge 
which was not mere opinion ; science which was more 
than seeming : that man has powers by which such 
truth, such knowledge, such science, may be ac- 
quired ; that therefore it ought to be sought, not in 
geometry alone, but in other subjects also ; that since 
man can know, certainly and clearly, about straight 
and curved in the world of space, he ought to know, — 
he ought not to be content without knowing, — no less 
clearly and certainly, about right and wrong in the 
world of human action. That man has such powers, 
was the beginning of Plato's philosophy. To use them 
for such purposes was the constant aim of his mental 
activity. The impression which had been left upon 
his mind by the geometrical achievements of his con- 
temporaries, and by those which he himself began, was, 
[ M ] 



DR. WHEWELL 



that the powers by which such discoveries are made 
are evidences of the exalted nature of the human 
mind ; of its vast profundity ; of its lofty destiny. 
He repeatedly, and with obvious gratification, refers 
to geometrical truths as evidences of the nature of 
the human mind, and even of its hope of immor- 
tality. Since the mind can.- thus reason to certain 
truths, it must have in it the principles of truth ; 
and whence did it derive them ? Since it can know 
what it has not learned from the senses, it must 
have some other source of knowledge ; and how 
much is implied in this ! Since it can conceive and 
bring forth eternal truths, how can it be the child 
of a day, a transient creature, born one moment 
and perishing the next ? 

Perhaps it may serve to add distinctness to the 
account I am trying to give you of Plato's teaching, 
if I give you, in his own way, an example of this 
teaching of his. It shall be very brief. In Plato's 
Dialogue, called Meno, Socrates, in discourse with 
Meno the Thessalian, is trying to discover what 
Virtue is : and pressing his inquiry from point to 
point, and finding the truth perpetually escape him, 
he is led to ask, at last, f What is meant by dis- 
covering anything ? Can we do it ? If so, how V 
And on this, with more of direct assertion than he 
commonly ventures upon, he declares that we can do 
[ i* ] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



it, and that he will show how we do it. He calls up 
a young and intelligent boy, an attendant of Meno, 
and he propounds to him a geometrical problem, 
simple, yet not quite obvious. He draws a diagram 
in the sand, and asks him various questions as to the 
lines which serve to illustrate this problem : and the 
boy, though at first he says he does not know, is soon 
led to answer rightly to these interrogations, by his 
natural apprehension of the relations of space. At 
every step, Socrates says, ' You see I tell him nothing. 
He goes on towards the truth, but I do not teach him. 
He finds it in his own mind. He does not learn 
from another, he recollects what he has already 
known. His knowledge is recollection. His science 
is reminiscence/* 

This doctrine — that knowledge is recollection, that 
science is reminiscence — is the main result deduced 
in the Meno from this geometrical investigation. In 
that Dialogue, as I have said, the doctrine is applied 
to illustrate the nature of the discovery of truth in 
general. In the Phedo — that Dialogue which has so 
deeply moved thoughtful men in every age, in which 
Socrates, standing before the gates of death, reasons 
with his weeping friends as to what he shall find be- 
yond them — this same doctrine is employed to warm 

* This portion of Plato's Dialogue, the Meno, was given briefly in 
the Lecture, a diagram being exhibited. See the Note. 

[ '3 ] 



DK. WHEWELL 



their liopes and elevate their thoughts. Since, it is 
argued , the soul thus contains in itself the principles 
of eternal truth, it must be itself eternal. But it is 
not with this purpose that I here refer to the use 
thus made of geometrical reasoning. My object is 
to establish this view : — that the great step in pure 
scientific discovery, made by the Greeks of Plato's 
time, — the construction of a connected and compre- 
hensive body of geometrical truths, led to the con- 
viction that geometry was an immensely valuable 
element in intellectual education. The apprehen- 
sions of such truths threw a new light upon the 
nature of all truth, and the means of attaining to it. 
It was seen that, thenceforth, they who were alto- 
gether ignorant of geometry, were destitute of the 
best means then known, of showing them what is the 
genuine aspect of essential truth, — what is the nature 
of the intellectual vision by which it is seen, — what is 
the consciousness of intuitive power on which its 
foundations rest. And thus, in virtue of the geome- 
trical discoveries of the Platonic epoch, geometry 
became a part of the discipline of the Platonic 
school; — became the starting point of the Platonic 
reformation of the intellectual education of Athens ; — 
became an element of a liberal education. And not 
only became so then, but has continued so to this 
day : so that among ourselves, and in every other 
[ 14 ] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



country of high cultivation, no education is held to 
be raised on good foundations which does not include 
geometry , — elementary geometry, at least, — among its 
component portions. And thus, in our Education, as 
in our Science, the completest form, in the latest 
time, includes and assumes the earliest steps of real 
progress : and this is so, in the one case as in the 
other, because the one must always depend on the 
other ; because the progress of Education is affected, 
at every great and principal step, by the progress of 
Science. 

You will not be surprised to be thus told that our 
modern education has derived something from the 
ancient Greek education, because you know that our 
modern science has derived much from the aucient 
Greek science. You know that our science, in the 
ordinary sense of the term, has derived little from 
the ancient Romans ; — little, that is, which is original; 
and therefore you will not be surprised, if our educa- 
tion have derived little from the Roman education. 
If the fact were so, it would still be a negative illus- 
tration of the doctrine which I am trying to elucidate; 
— the dependence of the progress of education on the 
progress of science. But if we take the term science 
in a somewhat wider acceptation, we shall derive from 
the Roman history, not a negative, but a positive 
exemplification of our proposition. For in that wider 
[ is ] 



DR. WHEWELL 



sense, there is a science of which Home was the 
mother, as Greece was of geometry and mathematics. 
The term Science may be extended so widely, as to 
allow us to speak of the Science of Law — meaning 
the doctrine of Rights and Obligations, in its most 
definite and yet most comprehensive form; — in short, 
the Science of Jurisprudence. In this Science, the 
Romans were really great discoverers : or rather, it 
was they who made the subject a Science : — who gave 
it the precision of a Science, the generality of a 
science, the method of a Science. And how effectually 
they did this, we may judge, from the fact that the 
jurisprudence of Rome is still the basis, the model, 
the guide, the core of the jurisprudence of every 
civilized country ; — of our own, less than most, but 
still, in no small degree, of our own. The imitators 
and pupils of the Greeks in every other department 
of human speculation, in jurisprudence, the Romans 
felt themselves their masters. Cicero says, proudly, 
but not too proudly, that a single page of a Roman 
jurist contained more solid and exact matter than a 
whole library of Greek philosophers. The labours of 
jurists deserving this character, which thus began 
before Cicero, continued through the empire, to its 
fall ; — continued even beyond its fall. As Horace 
tells us that captive Greece captived the conqueror 
and taught him arts; so Rome subdued, subdued the 
[ 16 ] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



victor hordes, and taught them law. The laws of 
Rome gave method to the codes of the northern 
nations, and are the origin of much that is most 
scientific in the more recent systems of legislation. 
That general law is a science, we owe to the Romans ; 
and we in England may be reminded of this, by our 
inability to translate the Roman word by which this 
science is described : for though the term, Jus, is 
the root of jurist, and jurisprudence, and the like, it 
is, as yet, hardly naturalized in its technical sense, as 
designating the general Doctrine of Rights and Obli- 
gations : nor have we any word which has that mean- 
ing, as Droit has in French, and Recht in German. 

Here is a great science, then, of which the dis- 
coverers were the Romans : can we trace, as accord- 
ing to our view we ought to be able to trace, any 
corresponding great step in intellectual discipline ? 
Was jus a prominent part of Roman education ? Is 
Roman jurisprudence a prominent part in the liberal 
education in modern times ? To both these questions 
•we must answer most emphatically, Yes. The law of 
Rome was the main part of the education of the 
Roman youth. Cicero reminds his brother Quintius, 
that they had learnt the old laws, and the formulas of 
legal proceedings, by heart, as a sort of domestic cate- 
chism or nursery rhyme. Every Roman of eminence 
spent the early part of his morning in giving legal 



DE. WHEWELL 



opinions to his clients : — not like our Justices of the 
Peace, when appealed to as a magistrate, but as an 
adviser and protector : and every young member of 
the aristocracy had to fit himself for this office. 
Every young Roman of condition was a Roman jurist. 
And the study of the law, thus made a leading branch' 
of a liberal education, continued so through the 
middle ages — continues so still. It occupied the 
great Italian universities — Bologna, Pisa, Padua, and 
the like — in the darkest parts of the dark ages. It 
occupies most of the universities of Europe to this day. 
The Roman law is still the main element of the 
liberal education of Italy, of Germany, of Greece, and, 
in some degree, even of France and Spain. In 
Germany its prevalence has been such, that in recent 
times all the great moral controversies have been de- 
bated in the most strenuous and searching manner 
in terms of the Civil Law ; as the Roman law is still 
called all over Europe. And we shall hardly doubt, 
if we look into the matter, that these legal studies 
have given to the well-educated men of those countries 
a precision of thought, and an exactness of logic on 
moral subjects, which, without such a study, would 
not have been likely to prevail. To define a Right 
or Obligation, to use proper terms in framing a law, 
in delivering a judicial sentence, in giving a legal 
opinion, is precisely the merit of an accomplished 
[ 1.8 ] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



jurist; as is emphatically asserted by Cicero. And 
even our own law, fragmentary and unscientific as 
it is, is not without a value of the same kind, as an 
instrument of a liberal education. It may be a means 
of giving exactness to the thoughts, method and 
clearness to the reasoning, precision to the expres- 
sions of men, on the general interests of man and of 
society; and is so recommended, and often so em- 
ployed, by those who are preparing for active life. 
Of the moral sciences, without some study of which 
no education can be complete, the science of juris- 
prudence is most truly a science, and most effectually 
a means of intellectual discipline. And, as you see, 
the use of such discipline in education, dates from the 
period of that great advance in speculation on moral 
subjects and social relations, by which jurisprudence 
became a science. 

And thus two of the great elements of a thorough 
intellectual culture, Mathematics and Jurisprudence, 
are an inheritance which we derive from ages long 
gone by ; from two great nations ; from the two great 
nations of antiquity. They are the results of ancient 
triumphs of man's spirit over the confusion and 
obscurity of the aspects of the external world; and 
even over the waywardness and unregulated impulses 
of his own nature, and the entanglements and con- 
flicts of human society. And being true sciences, 
I *9 J C 2 



DR. WHEWELL 



tliey were well fitted to become, as they became, and 
were fitted to continue, as they have hitherto con- 
tinued, to be main elements in that discipline by 
which man is to raise himself above himself; is to 
raise, — since that is especially what we have now to 
consider, — his intellect into an habitual condition, 
superior to the rudeness, dimness, confusion, laxity, 
insecurity, to which the undisciplined impulses of 
human thought in all ages and nations commonly lead. 
And before we proceed any further, let us consider, 
for an instant, that such an education, consisting of 
the elements which I have mentioned, might be, and 
would be, in well conducted cases, an education of 
no common excellence, even according to our present 
standard of a good intellectual education. A mind 
well disciplined in elementary geometry and in 
general jurisprudence, would be as well prepared as 
mere discipline can make a mind, for most trains of 
human speculation and reasoning. The mathematical 
portion of such an education would give clear habits 
of logical deduction, and a perception of the delight 
of demonstration ; while the moral portion of the 
education, as we may call jurisprudence, would guard 
the mind from the defect, sometimes ascribed to mere 
mathematicians, of seeing none but mathematical 
proofs, and applying to all cases mathematical pro- 
cesses. A young man well imbued with these, the 
[ 20] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



leading elements of Athenian and Roman culture, 
would, we need not fear to say, be superior in intel- 
lectual discipline to three-fourths of the young men 
of our own day, on whom all the ordinary appliances 
of what is called a good education have been bestowed. 
Geometer and jiuist, the pupil formed by this culture 
of the old world, might make no bad figure among 
the men of letters or of science, the lawyers and the 
politicians, of our own times. 

But there is another remark which I must make, 
tending to show the defect of this education of anti- 
quity, as compared with the intellectual education of 
our own times ; or rather, as compared with what the 
education of our own times ought to be. The sub- 
jects which I have mentioned, geometry and juris- 
prudence, are both deductive sciences; — sciences in 
which, from certain first principles, by chains of 
proof, conclusions are deduced which constitute the 
doctrines of the science. In the one case, geometry, 
these first principles are given by intuition; in the 
other, jurisprudence, they are either rules instituted 
by authority and consent, or general principles of 
human nature and human society, obtained from ex- 
perience interpreted by our own human conscious- 
ness. We deduce properties of diagrams from 
geometrical axioms ; we deduce decisions of cases 
from legal maxims. Jurisprudence, no less than 

[ » ] 



DR. WHEWELL 



geometry, is a deductive science ; and lias been com- 
pared with geometry, by its admirers, for the exact- 
ness of its deductive processes. They have said 
(Leibnitz and others) that jural demonstrations are 
as fine examples of logic as mathematical ; and that 
pure reason alone determines every expression of a 
good jurist, no less than of a good mathematician } 
so that there is no room for that play of individual 
character, which shows itself in the difference of 
style of different authors. But however perfectly the 
habits of deduction may be taught by these studies, 
such teaching cannot, according to the enlarged views 
of modern times, compose a complete intellectual cul- 
ture. Induction, rather than deduction, is the source 
of the great scientific truths which form the glory, 
and fasten on them the admiration of modern times ; 
and a modern education cannot be regarded as giving 
to the intellect that culture, which the fulness of 
time, and the treasures of knowledge now accumulated, 
render suitable and necessary, except it convey to 
the mind an adequate appreciation of and familiarity 
with the inductive process, by which those treasures 
of knowledge have been obtained. As the best 
sciences which the ancient world framed supplied the 
best elements of intellectual education up to modern 
times ; so the grand step by which, in modern times, 
science has sprung up into a magnitude and majesty 
[ 9* ] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



far superior to her ancient dimensions, should exercise 
its influence upon modern education, and contribute 
its proper result to modern intellectual culture. 

Who is to be taken as the representative of the 
great epoch of the progress of science in modern 
times ; that is, beginning from the sixteenth century? 
In different ways, Galileo, Descartes, Bacon, Newton, 
may seem best suited to occupy that position. But 
Galileo's immediate influence was limited, both as to 
subjects and as to the number of admirers. It was 
when Descartes summed up into a system the dis- 
coveries of Galileo and his disciples, and added to 
them inventions of his own, some true, many capti- 
vating, that the new physical philosophy acquired a 
large and vigorous hold upon Europe north of the 
Alps. In France especially, always eager in its 
admiration of intellectual greatness, Descartes was 
unhesitatingly regarded as the great man who brought 
in a new and more enlightened age of philosophy. 
Indeed, for a large portion of philosophy, he 
is still so regarded by French philosophers; and 
though his influence in metaphysics is to be distin- 
guished from his authority in physics, still the 
ascendancy of his more abstract and general philoso- 
phical opinions was closely connected with his recog- 
nised eminence as a physical philosopher, and with 
the admiration which his system of the universe 
[ *3 ] 



DR. WHEWELL 



obtained. The Cartesian philosophy was the pro- 
claimed and acknowledged antagonist of the Aris- 
totelian philosophy ; it was the new truth of which 
the standard was raised against the old falsehood. 
Any one acquainted with the French literature of the 
seventeenth century, will recollect innumerable illus- 
trations of this view of the matter. You remember, 
perhaps (as an example), the noted passage in Fonte- 
nelle's lively dialogues on The Plurality of Worlds. 
There, the sages of antiquity, the Pythagorases, 
Platos, Aristotles, are represented as looking at the 
spectacle of the universe, like so many spectators in 
the pit of the Opera House looking at the ballet. 
The subject of the ballet is supposed to be, Phaeton 
carried away by the winds : and to represent this, the 
dancer who enacts the part of Phaeton, is made to 
fly away through the upper part of the scene, to the 
great admiration of the gazers. The more specu- 
lative of these attempt to explain this extraordinary 
movement of Phaeton. One says, ' Phaeton has an 
occult quality, which carries him away.' This is the 
Aristotelian. Another says, ' Phaeton is composed 
of certain numbers, which make him move upwards/ 
This is the Pythagorean. Another says, ' Phaeton 
has a longing for the top of the theatre. He is 
not easy till he gets there/ This is the philosophy 
which explains the universe by Love and Hate. 

[ 34 ] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



Another says, ' Phaeton has not naturally a tendency 
to fly; but he prefers flying to leaving the top of the 
scene empty.' This is the doctrine of the fuga 
vacui, nature's horror of a vacuum. And after all 
this, says the speaker, comes Descartes, and some 
other moderns; and they say, Phaeton goes up, 
because he is drawn by certain cords, and a weight, 
heavier than he is, goes down behind the scenes. 
And in truth, the physical philosophy of Descartes 
did contain the greater part of the true explanation 
of the phenomena of the universe, which was known 
up to this time. It contained the principles of 
Mechanics, with few errors : the principles of Optics, 
and the beautiful explanation of the rainbow, in the 
discovery of which Descartes had so large a share ; 
and a true system of Astronomy, so far as the mere 
motions are concerned. And Descartes's peculiar 
invention, the hypothesis of tourbillons, — vortices or 
whirlpools of celestial fluid, by which these motions 
are produced — though false, was not only separable 
from the other parts of the system, but was capable, 
by modifications, of expressing many mechanical 
truths, as the Bernoullis, and other mathematicians 
who retained it for a century, often showed. In 
England, as in France, the Cartesian philosophy 
meant the Mechanical Philosophy, as opposed to the 
philosophy of sympathies and antipathies, occult 
[ H ] 



DR. WHEWELL 



qualities, arbitrary notions of Nature, and the like. 
The Cartesian philosophy, in this sense, was intro- 
duced into England ; but I doubt whether the 
doctrine of vortices was ever accepted here to any 
considerable extent. It has been made, I may be 
allowed to say, ignorantly and absurdly made, an 
accusation against the University of Cambridge, that 
the Cartesian system found acceptance there. Such 
an event showed a promptitude in accepting new 
scientific views, which has repeatedly been exempli- 
fied there. But I much doubt whether the 
Cartesian system was ever presented to Cambridge 
students, without a refutation of the vortices being 
put in the notes on the same page. Assuredly it 
was not taught for more than a few years in any 
other form : but I believe, not at all. And in like 
manner, in other places, the new mechanical philo- 
sophy, Cartesian in France, Newtonian in England, 
rapidly superseded the verbal dogmatism of the 
middle ages. 

And with this triumph of the new opinions, as a 
revolution in science, came the introduction of 
the new doctrines as a revolution, or extension, 
in education. The Cartesian philosophy, — in- 
stantly, in England transformed into the New- 
tonian philosophy, on the publication of Newton's 
mighty discoveries, — was eagerly received, from its 
[ * ] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



very first appearance, and incorporated with the ele- 
ments of a liberal education, both in Newton's own 
university, and elsewhere. And not only were the 
new theories of the solar system rapidly diffused, by 
means of lectures, books, and in other ways; but 
the principles by which such theories are collected 
from observation, — the principles of that induction, 
on which this great fabric of science rests, — became 
objects of attention, respect, and praise. Bacon, 
with his majestic voice, — the trumpeter who stirred 
up the battle, as he himself calls himself, — had 
already prepared men's minds for this feeling of 
respect and admiration for inductive discovery, even 
while the movement was only beginning : and in 
this country at least, many persons, Gilbert, Cowley, 
and others, had reechoed the sentiment which he 
expressed. He had declared that knowle4ge, far 
more ample and complete than had yet been 
obtained by man, was to be gained by the use of 
new methods of investigation : and the succeeding 
time, having produced noble examples of such know- 
ledge, had made men see that they had entered 
upon a new epoch of science. And it was natural 
and desirable that in this, as in other cases, the 
possession of a body of new truths, and the admi- 
ration of the method by which these had been 
acquired, should operate upon the culture of the 
[»7 ] 



DE. WHEWELL 



intellect, among tliose who sought the best means 
of such culture ; — should introduce new elements into 
liberal education ; — should make it a part of the 
mental discipline of the best taught classes, that 
they should learn to feel the force and see the 
beauty of inductive reasoning; as the older elements 
of a liberal education, mathematics and jurispru- 
dence, had been employed, among other uses, to 
make men feel the force, and see the beauty, of 
deductive reasoning. 

And thus we are naturally led to ask, Has this 
been done ? Has education in its most advanced 
form been thus extended ? Is there, in the habitual 
culture of the intellect, in the best system of educa- 
tion, this cultivation of the habit, or at least of the 
appreciation, of inductive teaching in science ? How 
is such, culture to be effected ? How are we to 
judge whether it has been effected ? 

These are very large questions, and yet the time 
admonishes me, if nothing else did, that I must be 
very brief in any answers that I may give to them. 
I must content myself with a hint or two bearing 
upon the subject. And first, of the mode in which 
this culture of the inductive habit of mind, or at 
least appreciation of the method and its results^ is 
to be promoted ; if I might presume to give an 
opinion, I should say that one obvious mode of effect- 

[ *« ] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION". 



ing this discipline of the mind in induction is, the 
exact and solid study of some portion of inductive 
knowledge. I do not mean the mechanical sciences 
alone, Physical Astronomy and the like ; though these 
undoubtedly have a prerogative value as the instru- 
ments of such a culture ; but the like effect will be 
promoted by the exact and solid study of any portion 
of the circle of natural sciences • — Botany, Compara- 
tive Anatomy, Geology, Chemistry, for instance. But 
I say, the exact and solid knowledge; not a mere 
verbal knowledge, but a knowledge which is real in 
its character, though it may be elementary and limited 
in its extent. The knowledge of which I speak 
must be a knowledge of things, and not merely of 
names of things ; an acquaintance with the opera- 
tions and productions of nature, as they appear to the 
eye, not merely an acquaintance with what has been 
said about them ; a knowledge of the laws of nature, 
seen in special experiments and observations, before 
they are conceived in general terms; a knowledge 
of the types of natural forms, gathered from indi- 
vidual cases already made familiar. By such study 
of one or more departments of inductive knowledge, 
the mind may escape from the thraldom and illusion 
which reigns in the world of mere words. 

But there is another study which I may venture 
to mention, of a more general and literary kind, also 
[ 29] 



DR. WHEWELL 



eminently fitted to promote an appreciation of the 
nature and value of the inductive treatment of nature. 
I mean, the History of the Natural Sciences ; for in 
such history we see how, in the study of every portion 
of the universe, the human mind has ascended from 
particular facts to general laws ; and yet in every 
different class of phenomena, by processes very dif- 
ferent, at first sight at least. And I mention this 
study, of the history of science, and especially recom- 
mend it, the rather, because it supplies, as I con* 
ceive, a remedy for some of the evils which, along 
with great advantages, may result from another study 
which has long been, and at present is, extensively 
employed as an element of a liberal education — I 
mean the study of Logic. The study of Logic is of 
great value, as fixing attention upon the conditions 
of deductive proof, and giving a systematic and tech- 
nical view of the forms which such proof may 
assume. But by doing this for all subjects alike, it 
produces the impression that there is a close likeness 
in the process of investigation of truth in different 
subjects ; — closer than there really is. The examples 
of reasoning given in books of Logic are generally so 
trifling as to seem a mockery of truth-seeking, and so 
monotonous as to seem idle variations of the same 
theme. But in the History of Science, we see the 
infinite variety of nature ; of mental, no less than 
[ 3°] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



bodily nature ; of the intellectual as well as of the 
sensible world. The modes of generalization of par- 
ticulars, — of ascent from the most actual things to the 
most abstract ideas, — how different are they in botany, 
in chemistry, in geology, in physiology ! yet all 
most true and real ; all most certain and solid ; all 
of them genuine and indisputable lines of union and 
connexion, by which the mind of man and the facts 
of the universe are bound together; by which the 
universe becomes a sphere with intellect for its 
centre ; by which intellect becomes in no small 
degree able to bend to its purposes the powers of the 
universe. 

The history of science, showing us how this takes 
place in various forms, — ever and ever new, when they 
seem to have been exhausted, — may do, and carefully 
studied, must do, much to promote that due appre- 
hension and appreciation of inductive discovery : and 
inductive discovery, now that the process has been 
going on with immense vigour in the nations of Europe 
for the last three hundred years, ought, we venture to 
say, to form a distinct and prominent part of the intel- 
lectual education of the youth of those nations. And 
having said this, I have given you the ultimate result 
of the reflections which have occurred to me on this 
subject of intellectual education, on which I have 
ventured to address you. And here, therefore, I might 
[3i ] 



DR. WHEWELL 



conclude. But if it did not weary you, I should 
wish to make a remark on the other of the two ques- 
tions which I asked a little while ago. I then asked 
how is such a culture to be effected ? and also, how 
are we to judge whether it has been effected ? 

With regard to the latter question, the remark 
which I have to make is briefly this. — In the 
inductive sciences, every step of generalization is 
usually marked by some word, which, adopted to mark 
that step, acquires thenceforth a fixed and definite 
meaning ; and is always to be used in the sense so 
given it, not in any other way in which other resem- 
blances or incidents may suggest. A.nd the definition 
of technical words in inductive science, is contained in 
the history of the science ; is given by the course of 
previous research and discovery. ' The history of 
science is our dictionary ; the steps of scientific in- 
duction are our definitions.' Now this being so, we 
may remark that when we hear a man, in the course 
of an argument, asking for Definitions, as something 
by which error is to be avoided and truth learned, 
such a demand is evidence that his intellectual 
training has been deductive, not inductive — logical, 
not scientific. In geometry, and in other demon- 
strative sciences, Definitions are the beginning of the 
science — the fountains of truth. But it is not so in 
the inductive sciences. In such sciences, a Definition 

[ 32 ] 



OK INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



and a Proposition commonly enter side by side — the 
definition giving exactness to the proposition ; the 
proposition giving reality to the definition. 

But farther : — as technical terms, appropriate to a 
precise and steady sense, mark every step of inductive 
ascent in science, the exact and correct use of the tech- 
nical terms of science is evidence of good inductive 
culture of the mind ; and a vague and improper use 
of such terms, is evidence of the absence of such cul- 
ture. When we hear men speak, as we often do, 
of impetus and momentum, of gravity and inertia, of 
centripetal and centrifugal force, and the like, using 
the terms mostly by guess, — and assuming oppositions 
and relations among them which do not exist ; — as, for 
instance, when they oppose the centrifugal and cen- 
tripetal force, as if they were forces in the same 
sense; — we cannot help saying that such persons, 
however ingenious and quick they may be in 
picking a possible meaning out of current words, 
by means of their etymology, or any other 
casual light, have not the habit of gathering the 
meaning of scientific words from the only true light, 
the light of induction. 

And this remark may not be without a special 
use, if we recollect that there are at present a num- 
ber of scientific words current among us, which are 
applied with the most fantastical and wanton vague- 
ly ] D 



DR. WHEWELL 



ness of meaning, or of no meaning. At all periods 
of science, probably, scientific terms are liable to 
this abuse, after scientific discoveries have brought 
them into notoriety, and before the diffusion of 
science has made their true meaning to be generally 
apprehended. The names, indeed, of attraction, 
gravitation, and the like, have probably now risen, 
in a great degree, out of this sphere of confusion 
and obscurity, in which any word may mean any- 
thing. But there are words — belonging to sciences 
which have more recently reached scientific dignity, — 
which words every one pursuing fancies which are 
utterly out of the sphere of science, seems to think 
he may use just as he pleases. Magnetism and Elec- 
tricity, and the terms which belong to these sciences, 
are especially taken possession of for such purposes, 
and applied in cases in which we know that the 
sciences from which the names are ' conveyed' have 
not the smallest application. Is Animal Magnet- 
ism anything ? Let those answer who think they 
can : but we know that it is not Magnetism. When 
I say we, I mean those who are in the habit of seeing 
in this place the admirable exhibitions of what Mag- 
netism is, with which you have long been familiar. 
And assuredly, on the same ground, I may say that 
you have been shown, and know, what Electricity is, 
and what it can do ; and what it cannot do, and what 
[34] 



ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



is not Electricity. And having had the opportunity 
of seeing this, you, at least, have so much of the 
culture of the intellect which inductive science sup- 
plies, as not to suppose that your words would have 
any meaning, if you were to say of any freak of fancy 
or will, shown in bodily motion or muscular action, 
that it is a kind of Electricity. 



NOTE TO p. 13. 

EXTRACT PROM THE ' MENO' OF PLATO. 



S. Tell me, boy, do you know that this figure is a square? — B. Yes, 
I know. 

S. Because all these four lines are equal (its sides) ? — B. Yes. 

S. And also these other two lines are equal, which are drawn 
across the middle ? (the diagonals.) — B. Yes. 

S. May there be a square greater or less than this ? — B. Yes. 

S. May there be a square twice as great as this ? — B. Yes. 

S. How long must one side be, that the square may be twice as 
great ? — B. Twice as long as the side of the first square. 

You see, Socrates says, I tell him nothing, I only ask him questions. 
And now he thinks he has answered right. But I must revive his 
recollection, that he may see his error. — So you say that the square 
on a double line will be double of the 
first square? You know I mean a 
square, not a figure that is long one 
way and narrow the other ; but as broad 
as it is long, like this square, only twice 
as large. Now let us fit to one end 
the first square, a second square which 

is equal to it. And let us fit two other squares of the same size to 
the sides of those two squares. Then we have a new square, have 
we not ?— B. Yes. 

[35 ] 



oad I 1 

idee I ! 

I of | I 




DR. WHEWELL ON INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION. 



S. And how many times is it greater than the first square ? — B. 
Four times greater. 

S. Not twice as great, which you said ? — B. No : four times. 

$. Well : but how long must the line be that the square upon it 
may be twice as great as the first square ? — B. I do not know. 

Now, says Socrates, mark, that out of this not knowing, he will 
come to know, by seeking with me, just as he comes to know when 
I question him without my telling him anything. You will see that 
I do not give him my opinion, I only get at his. — If we draw a line 
across this first square, from corner to corner, (the diagonal), it cuts 
it into two equal parts, does it not ? — B. Yes. 

S. And if in this square, which is made up of the four squares, we 
draw the four diagonals, so as to cut off the four outside corners, 
each of these diagonals will cut one of the squares into two halves? 
—B. Yes. 

S. And these four diagonals will be equal, and will make a new 
square ? — B. Yes. 

<S'. And this square is made up of the four inside halves of the four 
squares, is it not ? — B. It is. 

S. But the first square is made up of two such halves, is it not ? — 
B. Yes. 

8. And how much is four times greater than twice ? — B. The 
double of it. 

S. Then how many times is the new square greater than the first 
square ? — B. It is the double of it. 

S. Then you have got a square which is the double of the original 
square ? — B. Yes. 

S. Namely, the square upon the diagonal of the original square ? — 
B. Yes. 

You see, Socrates says, he was really possessed of all his knowledge 
before. Those who do not know, have still in their minds a latent 
knowledge. 



[ 36] 



OBSERVATIONS ON MENTAL 
EDUCATION : 

A LECTURE DELIVERED AT THE ROYAL INSTITUTION 
OF GREAT BRITAIN, 

Before M.JR.S. Prince Albert. 



PROFESSOR FARADAY, F.R.S. 



OBSEKVATIONS 

ON 

MENTAL EDUCATION. 



T TAKE courage, Sir, from your presence here this 
day, to speak boldly that which is upon my mind. 
I feared that it might be unpleasant to some of 
my audience, but as I know that your Royal High- 
ness is a champion for and desires the truth, I will 
believe that all here are united in the same cause, 
and therefore will give utterance, without hesitation, 
to what I have to say regarding the present condition 
of Mental Education. 

If the term education may be understood in so 
large a sense as to include all that belongs to the 
improvement of the mind, either by the acquisition 
of the knowledge of others, or by increase of 
it through its own exertions, then I may hope 
to be justified for bringing forward a few de- 
sultory observations respecting the exercise of the 
mental powers in a particular direction, which other- 
wise might seem out of place. The points I have 
in view are general, but they are manifest in a strik- 
ing manner, among the physical matters which have 
[ 39 ] E 2 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



occupied my life ; and as the latter afford a field for 
exercise in which cogitations and conclusions can be 
subjected to the rigid tests of fact and experiment — 
as all classes employ themselves more or less in the 
consideration of physical matters, and may do so 
with great advantage, if inclined in the least degree 
to profit by educational practices, so I hope that 
what I may say will find its application in every 
condition of life. 

Before entering upon the subject, I must take 
one distinction which, however it may appear to 
others, is to me of the utmost importance. High 
as man is placed above the creatures around him, 
there is a higher and far more exalted position within 
his view ; and the ways are infinite in which he 
occupies his thoughts about the fears, or hopes, or 
expectations of a future life. I believe that the 
truth of that future cannot be brought to his know- 
ledge by any exertion of his mental powers, however 
exalted they may be ; that it is made known to him 
by other teaching than his own, and is received 
through simple belief of the testimony given. Let 
no one suppose for a moment that the self-education 
I am about to commend in respect of the things of 
this life, extends to any considerations of the hope 
set before us, as if man by reasoning could find out 
God. It would be improper here to enter upon this 
[ 4o ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



subject further than to claim an absolute distinction 
between religious and ordinary belief. I shall be 
reproached with the weakness of refusing to apply 
those mental operations which I think good in re- 
spect of high things to the very highest. I am con- 
tent to bear the reproach. Yet, even in earthly 
matters, I believe that the invisible things of Him 
from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being 
understood by the things that are made, even His 
eternal power and Godhead; and I have never seen 
anything incompatible between those things of man 
which can be known by the spirit of man which is 
within him, and those higher things concerning his 
future which he cannot know by that spirit. 

Claiming, then, the use of the ordinary faculties 
of the mind in ordinary things, let me next endea- 
vour to point out what appears to me to be a great 
deficiency in the exercise of the mental powers in 
every direction ; three words will express this great 
want, deficiency of judgment. I do not wish to make 
any startling assertion, but I know that in physical 
matters multitudes are ready to draw conclusions 
who have little or no power of judgment in the 
cases; that the same is true of other departments 
of knowledge ; and that, generally, mankind is will- 
ing to leave the faculties which relate to judgment 
almost entirely uneducated, and their decisions at 

[ 4i ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



the mercy of ignorance, prepossessions, the passions, 
or even accident. 

Do not suppose, because I stand here and speak 
thus, making no exceptions, that I except myself. I 
have learned to know that I fall infinitely short of 
that efficacious exercise of the judgment which may 
be attained. There are exceptions to my general 
conclusion, numerous and high ; but if we desire to 
know how far education is required, we do not con- 
sider the few who need it not, but the many who 
have it not ; and in respect of judgment, the num- 
ber of the latter is almost infinite. I am moreover 
persuaded, that the clear and powerful minds which 
have realized in some degree the intellectual prepa- 
ration I am about to refer to, will admit its impor- 
tance, and indeed its necessity ; and that they will not 
except themselves, nor think that I have made my 
statement too extensive. 

As I believe that a very large proportion of the 
errors we make in judgment is a simple and direct 
result of our perfectly unconscious state, and think 
that a demonstration of the liabilities we are subject 
to would aid greatly in providing a remedy, I will 
proceed first to a few illustrations of a physical nature. 
Nothing can better supply them than the intima- 
tions we derive from our senses ; to them we trust 
directly; by them we become acquainted with exter- 

[ 4* ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



nal tilings, and gain the power of increasing and 
varying facts upon which we entirely depend. Our 
sense perceptions are wonderful. Even in the obser- 
vant, but unrenective infant, they soon produce a 
result which looks like intuition, because of its per- 
fection. Coming to the mind as so many data, they 
are stored up, and without our being conscious of 
it, are ever after used in like circumstances in form- 
ing our judgment ; and it is not wonderful that man 
is accustomed to trust them without examination. 
Nevertheless, the result is the effect of education : 
the mind has to be instructed with regard to the 
senses and their intimations through every step of 
life; and where the instruction is imperfect, it is 
astonishing how soon and how much their evidence 
fails us. Yet, in the latter years of life, we do not 
consider this matter, but, having obtained the ordi- 
nary teaching sufficient for ordinary purposes, we 
venture to judge of things which are extraordinary 
for the time, and almost always with the more assur- 
ance as our powers of observation are less educated. 
Consider the following case of a physical impression, 
derived from the sense of touch, which can be ex- 
amined and verified at pleasure : — If the hands be 
brought towards each other so that the tips of the 
corresponding fingers touch, the end of any finger 
may be considered as an object to be felt by the 

[ 43 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



opposed finger, thus the two middle fingers may for 
the present be so viewed. If the attention be directed 
to them, no difficulty will be experienced in moving 
each lightly in a circle round the tip of the other, 
so that they shall each feel the opposite, and the 
motion may be either in one direction or the other — 
looking at the fingers, or with eyes employed else- 
where — or with the remaining fingers touching quies- 
cently, or moving in a like direction ; all is easy, 
because each finger is employed in the ordinary or 
educated manner whilst obeying the will, and whilst 
communicating through the sentient organ with the 
brain. But turn the hands half way round, so that 
their backs shall be towards each other, and then, 
crossing them at the wrists, again bring the like 
fingers into contact at the tips. If it be now desired 
to move the extremities of the middle fingers round 
each other, or to follow the contour of one finger by 
the tip of the opposed one, all sorts of confusion in 
the motion will ensue ; and as the finger of one 
hand tries, under the instruction of the will, to move 
in one course, the touched finger will convey an 
intimation that it is moving in another. If all the 
fingers move at once, all will be in confusion, the 
ease and simplicity of the first case having entirely 
disappeared. If, after some considerable trial, fami- 
liarity with the new circumstances have removed 

[ 44 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



part of the uncertainty, then, crossing the hands at 
the opposite sides of the wrists will renew it. These 
contrary results are dependent not on any change 
in the nature of the sentient indication, or of the 
surfaces or substances which the sense has to deal 
with, but upon the trifling circumstance of a little 
variation from the direction in which the sentient 
organs of these parts are usually exerted, and they 
show to what an extraordinary extent our interpre- 
tations of the sense impressions depend upon the 
experience, i.e., the education which they have pre- 
viously received, and their great inability to aid us 
at once in circumstances which are entirely new. 

At other times they fail us because we cannot 
keep a true remembrance of former impressions. 
Thus, on the evening of the eleventh of March last, I 
and many others were persuaded that at one period the 
moon had a real green colour, and though I knew 
that the prevailing red tints of the general sky were 
competent to produce an effect of such a kind, yet 
there was so little of that in the neighbourhood of 
the planet, that I was doubtful whether the green tint 
was not produced on the moon by some aerial 
medium spread before it, until, by holding up white 
cards in a proper position, and comparing them with 
our satellite, I had determined experimentally that the 
effect was only one of contrast. In the midst of 
[ 45 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



the surrounding tints, my memory could not recall 
the true sentient impression which the white of the 
moon most surely had before made upon the eye. 

At other times the failure is because one impres-- 
sion is overpowered by another ; for as the morning 
star disappears when the sun is risen, though still 
above the horizon and shining brightly as ever, so 
do stronger phenomena obscure weaker, even when 
both are of the same kind ; till an uninstructed per- 
son is apt to pass the weaker unobserved, and even 
deny their existence. 

So, error results occasionally from believing our 
senses : it ought to be considered, rather, as an error 
of the judgment than of the sense, for the latter has 
performed its duty,* the indication is always correct, 
and in harmony with the great truth of nature. 
Where, then, is the mistake ? — almost entirely with 
our judgment. We have not had that sufficient 
instruction by the senses which would justify our 
making a conclusion; we have to contrive extra and 
special means, by which their first impressions shall 
be corrected, or rather enlarged; and it is because 
our procedure was hasty, our data too few, and our 
judgment untaught, that we fell into mistake; not 
because the data were wrong. How frequently may 
each one of us perceive, in our neighbours, at least, 
that a result like this derived from the observation 
[ 46 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



of physical things, happens in the ordinary affairs of 
common life. 

When I become convicted of such haste, which 
is not unfreqnently the case, I look back upon the 
error as one of 'presumptuous judgment/ Under 
that form it is easily presentable to the mind, and 
has a useful corrective action. I do not think the 
expression too strong; for if we are led, either by 
simplicity or vanity, to give an opinion upon matters 
respecting which we are not instructed, either by 
the knowledge of others, or our own intimate obser- 
vation ; if we are induced to ascribe an effect to one 
force, or deny its relation to another, knowing little 
or nothing of the laws of the forces, or the necessary 
conditions of the effect to be considered ; surely our 
judgment must be qualified as ' presumptuous/ 

There are multitudes who think themselves com- 
petent to decide, after the most cursory observation, 
upon the cause of this or that event (and they may 
be really very acute and correct in things familiar to 
them) : — a not unusual phrase with them is, that ' it 
stands to reason/ that the effect they expect should 
result from the cause they assign to it, and yet it is 
very difficult, in numerous cases that appear plain, to 
show this reason, or to deduce the true and only 
rational relation of cause and effect. In matters 
connected with natural philosophy, we have wonderful 
[47 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



aid in the progress and assurance in the character, 
of our final judgment, afforded us by the facts which 
supply our data, and the experience which multiplies 
their number and varies their testimony. A funda- 
mental fact, like an elementary principle, never fails 
us, its evidence is always true; but, on the other 
hand, we frequently have to ask what is the fact ? — 
often fail in distinguishing it, — often fail in the very 
statement of it, — and mostly overpass or come short 
of its true recognition. 

If we are subject to mistake in the interpretation 
of our mere sense impressions, we are much more 
liable to error when we proceed to deduce from these 
impressions (as supplied to us by our ordinary ex- 
perience), the relation of cause and effect; and the 
accuracy of our judgment, consequently, is more 
endangered. Then our dependence should be upon 
carefully observed facts, and the laws of nature ; and 
I shall proceed to a further illustration of the mental 
deficiency I speak of, by a brief reference to one of these. 

The laws of nature, as we understand them, are 
the foundation of our knowledge in natural things. 
So much as we know of them has been developed by 
the successive energies of the highest intellects, 
exerted through many ages. After a most rigid and 
scrutinizing examination upon principle and trial, 
a definite expression has been given to them; they 
[ 48 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION". 



have become, as it were, our belief or trust. From 
day to day we still examine aud test our expressions 
of them. We have no interest in their retention if 
erroneous ; on the contrary, the greatest discovery a 
man could make would be to prove that one of these 
accepted laws was erroneous, and his greatest honour 
would be the discovery. Neither would there be any 
desire to retain the former expression : — for we know 
that the new or the amended law would be far more 
productive in results, would greatly increase our in- 
tellectual acquisitions, and would prove an abundant 
source of fresh delight to the mind. 

These laws are numerous, and are more or less 
comprehensive. They are also precise; for a law 
may present an apparent exception, and yet not be 
less a law to us, when the exception is included in 
the expression. Thus, that elevation of tempera- 
ture expands all bodies is a well-defined law, though 
there be an exception in water for a limited tem- 
perature ; because we are careful, whilst stating 
the law, to state the exception and its limits. Pre- 
eminent among these laws, because of its sim- 
plicity, its universality, and its undeviating truth, 
stands that enunciated by Newton (commonly called 
the law of gravitation) , that matter attracts matter 
with a force inversely as the square of the distance. 
Newton showed that, by this law, the general condition 
[ 49 ] ' 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



of tilings on the surface of the earth is governed; 
and the globe itself, with all upon it, kept together 
as a whole. He demonstrated that the motions of 
the planets round the sum, and of the satellites about 
the planets, were subject to it. During and since 
his time, certain variations in the movements of the 
planets, which were called irregularities, and might, 
for aught that was then known, be due to some cause 
other than the attraction of gravitation, were found 
to be its necessary consequences. By the close and 
scrutinizing attention of minds the most persevering 
and careful, it was ascertained that even the distant 
stars were subject to this law; and, at last, to place 
as it were the seal of assurance to its never-failing 
truth, it became, in the minds of Leverrier and 
Addams (1845), the foreteller and the discoverer of 
an orb rolling in the depths of space, so large as to 
equal nearly sixty earths, yet so far away as to be in- 
visible to the unassisted eye. What truth, beneath that 
of revelation, can have an assurance stronger than this ! 
Yet this law is often cast aside as of no value 
or authority, because of the unconscious ignorance 
amidst which we dwell. You hear at the present 
day, that some persons can place their fingers on 
a table, and then elevating their hands, the table 
will rise up and follow them; that the piece of 
furniture, though heavy, will ascend, and that 
[ So ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



their hands bear no weight, or are not drawn down 
to the wood ; you do not hear of this as a con- 
juring manceuvre, to be shown for your amusement, 
but are expected seriously to believe it ; and are told 
that it is an important fact, a great discovery amongst 
the truths of nature. Your neighbour, a well-mean- 
ing, conscientious person, believes it ; and the asser- 
tion finds acceptance in every rank of society, and 
amongst classes which are esteemed to be educated. 
Now, what can this imply but that society, speaking 
generally, is not only ignorant as respects education 
of the judgment, but is also ignorant of its ignorance. 
The parties who are thus persuaded, and those who 
are inclined to think and to hope that they are right, 
throw up Newton's law at once, and that in a case 
which of all others is fitted to be tested by it ; or if 
the law be erroneous, to test the law. I will not 
say they oppose the law, though I have heard the 
supposed fact quoted triumphantly against it ; but as 
far as my observation has gone, they will not apply 
it. The law affords the simplest means of testing 
the fact, and if there be, indeed, anything in the 
latter new to our knowledge (and who shall say that 
new matter "is not presented to us daily, passing away 
unrecognised), it also affords the means of placing 
that before us separately in its . simplicity and truth. 
Then why not consent to apply the knowledge we 
[5i ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



have to tliat which is under development? Shall we 
educate ourselves in what is known, and then casting 
away all we have acquired, turn to our ignorance for 
aid to guide us among the unknown ? If so, instruct 
a man to write, but employ one who is unacquainted 
with letters to read that which is written; the end 
will be just as unsatisfactory, though not so 
injurious, for the book of nature, which we have 
to read, is written by the finger of God. Why 
should not one who can thus lift a table, pro- 
ceed to verify and simplify his fact, and bring it into 
relation with the law of Newton? Why should he 
not take the top of his table (it may be a small one), 
and placing it in a balance, or on a lever, proceed 
to ascertain how much weight he can raise by the 
draught of his fingers upwards ; and of this weight, 
so ascertained, how much is unrepresented by any 
pull upon the fingers downward? He will then be 
able to investigate the further question, whether 
electricity, or any new force of matter, is made 
manifest in his operations ; or whether action and re- 
action being unequal, he has at his command the 
source of a perpetual motion. Such a man, furnished 
with a nicely constructed carriage on a railway, ought 
to travel by the mere draught of his own fingers. 
A far less prize than this would gain him the atten- 
tion of the whole scientific and commercial world ; 

[ 52 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



and he may rest assured, that if he can make the 
most delicate balance incline or decline by attraction, 
though it be only with the force of an ounce, or even 
a grain, he will not fail to gain universal respect and 
most honourable reward. 

When we think of the laws of nature (which by 
continued observation have become known to us), as 
the proper tests to which any new fact or our theo- 
retical representation of it should, in the first place, 
be subjected, let us contemplate their assured and 
large character. Let us go out into the field and 
look at the heavens with their solar, starry, and 
planetary glories ; the sky with its clouds ; the waters 
descending from above or wandering at our feet ; the 
animals, the trees, the plants; and consider the per- 
manency of their actions and conditions under the 
government of these laws. The most delicate flower, 
the tenderest insect, continues in its species through 
countless years; always varying, yet ever the same. 
When we think we have discovered a departure, as in 
the Aphides, Medusa, Distoma, &c.,* the law concerned 
is itself the best means of instituting an investigation, 
and hitherto we have always found the witness to 
return to its original testimony. These frail things 
are never ceasing, never changing, evidence of the 

* See Claparede's Account of Alternating Generation and the Me- 
tamorphoses of Inferior Animals. — Bib. Univ., Mar. 1854. p. 229. 

[53] , P 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



law's immutability. It would be well for a man who 
has an anomalous case before him, to contemplate a 
blade of grass, and when he has considered the 
numerous ceaseless, yet certain, actions there located, 
and his inability to change the character of the least 
among them, to recur to his new subject; and, in 
place of accepting unwatched and unchecked results, 
to search for a like certainty and recurrence in the 
appearances and actions which belong to it. 

Perhaps it may be said, the delusion of table- 
moving is past, and need not be recalled before an 
audience like the present j* — even granting this, let 
us endeavour to make the subject leave one useful 
result ; let it serve for an example, not to pass into 
forgetfulness. It is so recent, and was received by 
the public in a manner so strange, as to justify a 
reference to it, in proof of the uneducated condition 
of the general mind. I do not object to table- 
moving, for itself ; for being once stated it becomes 
a fit, though a very unpromising subject for experi- 
ment ; but I am opposed to the unwillingness of its 
advocates to investigate; their boldness to assert; 
the credulity of the lookers-on; their desire that 
the reserved and cautious objector should be in error; 
and I wish, by calling attention to these things, to 



* See note, p. 88. 

[ 54 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



make the general want of mental discipline and 
education manifest. 



Having endeavoured to point out this great defi- 
ciency in the exercise of the intellect, I will offer a 
few remarks upon the means of subjecting it to the 
improving processes of instruction. Perhaps many 
who watch over the interests of the community, and 
are anxious for its welfare, will conclude, that the de- 
velopment of the judgment cannot properly be included 
in the general idea of education; that as the education 
proposed must, to a very large degree, be of self, it is so 
far incommunicable ; that the master and the scholar 
merge into one, and both disappear; that the in- 
structor is no wiser than the one to be instructed, 
and thus the usual relations of the two lose their 
power. Still, I believe that the judgment may be 
educated to a very large extent, and might refer to 
the fine arts, as giving proof in the affirmative; and 
though, as respects the community and its improve- 
ment in relation to common things, any useful edu- 
cation must be of self, I think that society, as a body, 
may act powerfully in the cause. Or it may still be 
objected that my experience is imperfect, is chiefly 
derived from exercise of the mind within the precincts 
of natural philosophy, and has not that generality of 
application which can make it of any value to society 
[ 55 ] H 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



at large. I can only repeat my conviction, that so- 
ciety occupies itself now-a-days about physical mat- 
ters, and judges them as common things. Failing 
in relation to them, it is equally liable to carry such 
failures into other matters of life. The proof of de- 
ficient judgment in one department shows the habit 
of mind, and the general want, in relation to others. 
I am persuaded that all persons may find in natural 
things an admirable school for self-instruction, and a 
field for the necessary mental exercise ; that they 
may easily apply their habits of thought, thus formed, 
to a social use ; and that they ought to do this, as a 
duty to themselves and their generation. 

Let me first try to illustrate the former part of the 
case, and at the same time state what I think a man 
may and ought to do for himself. 

The self-education to which he should be stimu- 
lated by the desire to improve his judgment, requires 
no blind dependence upon the dogmas of others, but 
is commended to him by the suggestions and dictates 
of his own common sense. The first part of it is 
founded in mental discipline : happily it requires no 
unpleasant avowals ; appearances are preserved, and 
vanity remains unhurt ; but it is necessary that a 
man examine himself, and that not carelessly. On 
the contrary, as he advances, he should become more 
and more strict, till he ultimately prove a sharper 
[ 56 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION". 



critic to himself than any one else can be; and he 
ought to intend this, for, so far as he consciously falls 
short of it, he acknowledges that others may have 
reason on their side when they criticize him. A first 
result of this habit of mind will be an internal can- 
viction of ignorance in many things respecting which 
his neighbours are taught, and, that his opinions and 
conclusions on such matters ought to be advanced 
with reservation. A mind so disciplined will be 
open to correction upon good grounds in all things, 
even in those it is best acquainted with; and should 
familiarize itself with the idea of such being the case : 
for though it sees no reason to suppose itself in error, 
yet the possibility exists. The mind is not enfeebled 
by this internal admission, but strengthened ; for, if 
it cannot distinguish proportionately between the 
probable right and wrong of things known imper- 
fectly, it will tend either to be rash or to hesitate; 
whilst that which admits the due amount of probability 
is likely to be justified in the end. It is right that we 
should stand by and act on our principles; but not 
right to hold them in obstinate blindness, or retain 
them when proved to be erroneous. I remember the 
time when I believed a spark was produced between 
voltaic metals as they approached to contact (and the 
reasons why it might be possible yet remain); but 
others doubted the fact and denied the proofs, and on 
[ 57 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



re-examiuation I found reason to admit their correc- 
tions were well founded. Years ago I believed that 
electrolytes could conduct electricity by a conduction 
proper; that has also been denied by many through 
long time : though I believed myself right, yet circum- 
stances have induced me to pay that respect to criti- 
cism as to reinvestigate the subject, and I have the 
pleasure of thinking that nature confirms my original 
conclusions. So though evidence may appear to pre- 
ponderate extremely in favour of a certain decision, it 
is wise and proper to hear a counter-statement. You 
can have no idea how often and how much, under 
such an impression, I have desired that the marvellous 
descriptions which have reached me might prove, in 
some points, correct ; and how frequently I have sub- 
mitted myself to hot fires, to friction with magnets, 
to the passes of hands, &c, lest I should be shutting 
out discovery; — encouraging the strong desire that 
something might be true, and that I might aid in the 
development of a new force of nature. 

Among those points of self-education which take 
up the form of mental discipline, there is one of great 
importance, and, moreover, difficult to deal with, 
because it involves an internal conflict, and equally 
touches our vanity and our ease. It consists in the 
tendency to deceive ourselves regarding all we wish 
for, and the necessity of resistance to these desires. 
[ 58 ] 



OX MENTAL EDUCATION. 



It is impossible for any one who has not been con- 
strained, by the course of his occupation and thoughts, 
to a habit of continual self-correction, to be aware of 
the amount of error in relation to judgment arising 
from this tendency. The force of the temptation 
which urges us to seek for such evidence and appear- 
ances as are in favour of our desires, and to disregard 
those which oppose them, is wonderfully great. In 
this respect we are all, more or less, active promoters 
of error. In place of practising wholesome self- 
abnegation, we ever make the wish the father to the 
thought : we receive as friendly that which agrees 
with, we resist with dislike that which opposes us; 
whereas the very reverse is required by every dictate 
of common sense. Let me illustrate my meaning by 
a case where the proof being easy, the rejection of it 
under the temptation is the more striking. In old 
times, a ring or a button would be tied by a boy to 
one end of a long piece of thread, which he would 
then hold at the other end, letting the button hang 
within a glass, or over a piece of slate-pencil, or 
sealing-wax, or a nail; he would wait and observe 
whether the button swung, and whether in swinging 
it tapped the glass as many times as the clock struck 
last, or moved along or across the slate-pencil, or in 
a circle or oval. In late times, parties in all ranks of 
life have renewed and repeated the boy's experiment. 
[ 59 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



They have sought to ascertain a very simple fact — 
namely, whether the effect was as reported ; but how 
many were unable to do this ? They were sure they 
could keep their hands immoveable,, — were sure they 
could do so whilst watching the result, — were sure 
that accordance of swing with an expected direction 
was not the result of their desires or involuntary mo- 
tions. How easily all these points could be put to 
the proof by not looking at the objects, yet how diffi- 
cult for the experimenter to deny himself that pri- 
vilege. I have rarely found one who would freely 
permit the substance experimented with to be screened 
from his sight, and then its position changed. 

When engaged in the investigation of table- 
turning, I constructed a very simple apparatus,* serv- 
ing as an index, to show the unconscious motions of 
the hands upon the table. The results were either 
that the index moved before the table, or that neither 
index nor table moved ; and in mimerous cases all 
moving power was annihilated. A universal objection 
was made to it by the table-turners. It was said to 
paralyze the powers of the mind; — but the experi- 
menters need not see the index ; they may leave 
their friends to watch that, and their minds may 
revel in any power that their expectation or their 

* Athenceum, July 2, 1S53. — Newman, Philosophical Instrument 
Maker, 122, Regent Street. 

[ 60 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



imagination can confer. So restrained, a dislike to the 
trial arises; but what is that except a proof that whilst 
they trust themselves they doubt themselves, and are 
not willing to proceed to the decision, lest the trust 
which they like should fail them, and the doubt which 
they dislike rise to the authority of truth. 

Again, in respect of the action of magnets on the 
body, it is almost impossible for an uninstructed 
person to enter profitably upon such an inquiry. He 
*nay observe any symptom which his expectation has 
been accidentally directed to : — yet be unconscious of 
any, if unaware of his subjection to the magnetic force, 
or of the conditions and manner of its application. 

As a proof of the extent of this influence, even 
on the miuds of those well aware of its force, and 
desirous under every circumstance to escape from it, 
I will mention the practice of the chemist, who, 
dealing with the balance, that impartial decider 
which never fails in its indication, but offers its 
evidence with all simplicity, durability, and truth, 
still remembers he should doubt himself; and, with 
the desire of rendering himself inaccessible to tempt- 
ation, takes a counterpoised but unknown quantity 
of the substance for analysis, that he may remain 
ignorant of the proportions which he ought to 
obtain, and only at last compares the sum of his 
products with his counterpoise. 
[ 61 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



The inclination we exhibit in respect of any 
report or opinion that harmonises with our precon- 
ceived notions, can only be compared in degree with 
the incredulity we entertain towards everything that op- 
poses them; and these opposite and apparently incom- 
patible, or at least inconsistent, conditions are accepted 
simultaneously in the most extraordinary manner. 
At one moment a departure from the laws of nature 
is admitted without the pretence of a careful examin- 
ation of the proof; and at the next, the whole force 
of these laws, acting undeviatingly through all time, 
is denied, because the testimony they give is disliked. 

It is my firm persuasion, that no man can examine 
himself in the most common things, having any re- 
ference to him personally, or to any person, thought, 
or matter related to him, without being soon made 
aware of the temptation and the difficulty of opposing 
it. I could give you many illustrations personal to 
myself, about atmospheric magnetism, lines of force, 
attraction, repulsion, unity of power, nature of matter, 
&c. ; or in things more general to our common 
nature, about likes and dislikes, wishes, hopes, and 
fears ; but it would be unsuitable and also unneces- 
sary, for each most be conscious of a large field 
sadly uncultivated in this respect. / will simply 
express my strong belief, that that point of self- 
education which consists in teaching the mind to 
[ 62 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



resist its desires and inclinations, until they are 
proved to he right, is the most important of all, not 
only in things of natural philosophy, but in every 
department of daily life. 

There are numerous precepts resulting more or 
less from the principles of mental discipline already 
insisted on as essential, which are very useful in 
forming a judgment about matters of fact, whether 
among natural things or between man and man. 
Such a precept, and one that should recur to the 
mind early in every new case is, to knoiv the conditions 
of the matter, respecting which we are called upon 
to make a judgment. To suppose that any would 
judge before they professed to know the conditions 
would seem to be absurd ; on the other hand, to 
assume that the community does ivait to know the 
conditions before it judges, is an assumption so large 
that I cannot accept it. Very few search out the 
conditions; most are anxious to sink those which 
oppose their preconceptions ; yet none can be left out 
if a right judgment is to be formed. It is true that 
many conditions must ever remain unknown to us, 
even in regard to the simplest things in nature : thus 
as to the wonderful action of gravity, whose law 
never fails us, we cannot say whether the bodies 
are acting truly at a distance, or by a physical line 
of force as a connecting link between them. The 
[ 63 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



great majority think the former is the case; New- 
ton's judgment is for the latter.* But of the con- 
ditions which are within our reach we should search 
out all • for in relation to those which remain un- 
known or unsuspected, we are in that very ignorance 
(regarding judgment) which it is our present object, 
first to make manifest, and then to remove. 

One exercise of the mind, which largely influences 
the power and character of the judgment, is the 
habit of forming clear and precise ideas. If, after 
considering a subject in our ordinary manner, we 
return upon it with the special purpose of noticing 
the condition of our thoughts, we shall be astonished 
to find how little precise they remain. On recalling 
the phenomena relating to a matter of fact, the cir- 
cumstances modifying them, the kind and amount 
of action presented, the real or probable result, we 
shall find that the first impressions are scarcely fit 
for the foundation of a judgment, and that the 
second thoughts will be best. For the acquirement 
of a good condition of mind in this respect, the 
thoughts should be trained to a habit of clear and 
precise formation, so that vivid and distinct impres- 
sions of the matter in hand, its circumstances and 
consequences, may remain. 

* Newton's Works. Horsley's Edition, 1783, iv. p. 438. — or the 
Third Letter to Beutley. 

[ 64] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



Before we proceed to consider any question in- 
volving physical principles, we should set out with 
clear ideas of the naturally possible and impossible. 
There are many subjects uniting more or less of 
the most sure and valuable investigations of science 
with the most imaginary and unprofitable specu- 
lation, that are continually passing through their 
various phases of intellectual, experimental, or com- 
mercial development : some to be established, some 
to disappear, and some to recur again and again, 
like ill weeds that cannot be extirpated, yet can be 
cultivated to no result as wholesome food for the 
mind. Such, for instance, in different degrees, are 
the caloric engine, the electric light, the Pasilalinic 
sympathetic compass,* mesmerism, homoeopathy, 
odylism, the magneto-electric engine, the perpetual 
motion, &c. : all hear and talk of these things ; all 
use their judgment more or less upon them, and all 
might do that effectively, if they were to instruct 
themselves to the extent which is within their reach. 
I am persuaded that natural things offer an admi- 
rable school for self-instruction, a most varied field 
for the necessary mental practice, and that those 
who exercise themselves therein may easily apply the 
habits of thought thus formed to a social use. As a 
first step in such practice, clear ideas should be 

* See Chambers's Journal, 1851. Feb. 15th, p. 105. 
[ 6 5 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



obtained of what is possible and what is impossible. 
Thus, it is impossible to create force. We may 
employ it; we may evoke it in one form by its con- 
sumption in another ; we may hide it for a period ; 
but we can neither create nor destroij it. We may 
cast it away ; but where we dismiss it, there it will 
do its work. If, therefore, we desire to consider a 
proposition respecting the employment or evolution of 
power, let us carry our judgment, educated on this 
point, with us. If the proposal include the double 
use of a force with only one excitement, it implies 
a creation of power, and that cannot be. If we could 
by the fingers draw a heavy piece of wood or stone 
upward without effort, and then, letting it sink, could 
produce by its gravity an effort equal to its weight, 
that would be a creation of power, and cannot be. 

So again we cannot annihilate matter, nor can we 
create it. But if we are satisfied to rest upon that 
dogma, what are we to think of table-lifting ? If 
we could make the table to cease from acting by 
gravity upon the earth beneath it, or by reaction 
upon the hand supposed to draw it upwards, we should 
annihilate it, in respect of that very property which 
characterises it as matter. 

Considerations of this nature are very important 
aids to the judgment ; and when a statement is made 
claiming our assent, we should endeavour to reduce 
[ 66 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



it to some consequence which can be immediately 
compared with, and tried by, these or like compact 
and never failing truths. If incompatibility appears, 
then w T e have reason to suspend our conclusion, how- 
ever attractive to the imagination the proposition may 
be, and pursue the inquiry further, until accordance is 
obtained ; it must be a most uneducated and presump- 
tuous mind that can at once consent to cast off the 
tried truth and accept in its place the mere loud asser- 
tion. We should endeavour to separate the points be- 
fore us, and concentrate each, so as to evolve a clear 
type idea of the ruling fact and its consequences ; 
looking at the matter on every side, with the great 
purpose of distinguishing the constituent reality, 
and recognising it under every variety of aspect. 

In like manner we should accustom ourselves to 
clear and definite language, especially in physical mat- 
ters, giving to a word its true and full, but measured 
meaning, that we may be able to convey our ideas 
clearly to the minds of others. Two persons cannot 
mutually impart their knowledge, or compare and 
rectify their conclusions, unless both attend to the 
true intent and force of language. If by such 
words as attraction, electricity, polarity, or atom, 
they imply different things, they may discuss facts, 
deny results, and doubt consequences for an indefi- 
nite time without any advantageous progress. I 
[ 6 7 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



hold it as a great point in self-education that the 
student should be continually engaged in forming 
exact ideas, and in expressing them clearly by 
language. Such practice insensibly opposes any 
tendency to exaggeration or mistake, and increases 
the sense and love of truth in every part of life. 

I should be sorry, however, if what I have said 
were understood as meaning that education for the 
improvement and strengthening of the judgment is 
to be altogether repressive of the imagination, or 
confine the exercise of the mind to processes of a 
mathematical or mechanical character. I believe 
that, in the pursuit of physical science, the imagina- 
tion should be taught to present the subject investi- 
gated in all possible, and even in impossible views; 
to search for analogies of likeness and (if I may say 
so) of opposition — inverse or contrasted analogies; 
to present the fundamental idea in every form, pro- 
portion, and condition ; to clothe it with supposi- 
tions and probabilities, that all cases may pass in 
review, and be touched, if needful, by the Ithunel 
spear of experiment. Eut all this must be under 
government, and the result must not be given to 
society until the judgment, educated by the process 
itself, has been exercised upon it. Let us construct 
our hypotheses for an hour, or a day, or for years; 
they are of the utmost value in the elimination of 
[ 68 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



truth, c which is evolved more freely from error than 
from confusion ■/ but, above all things, let us not 
cease to be aware of the temptation they offer, or, 
because they gradually become familiar to us, accept 
them as established. We could not reason about 
electricity without thinking of it as a fluid, or a 
vibration, or some other existent state or form. We 
should give up half our advantage in the considera- 
tion of heat if we refused to consider it as a prin- 
ciple, or a state of motion. We could scarcely touch 
such subjects by experiment, and we should make 
no progress in their practical application, without 
hypothesis; still it is absolutely necessary that we 
should learn to doubt the conditions we assume, and 
acknowledge we are uncertain, whether heat and 
electricity are vibrations or substances, or either. 

When the different data required are in our pos- 
session, and we have succeeded in forming a clear 
idea of each, the mind should be instructed to 
balance them one against another, and not suffered 
carelessly to hasten to a conclusion. This reserve 
is most essential ; and it is especially needful that 
the reasons which are adverse to our expectations or 
our desires should be carefully attended to. We 
often receive truth from unpleasant sources ; we often 
have reason to accept unpalatable truths. We are 
never freely willing to admit information having this 
[ 69 ] G 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



unpleasant character, and it requires much self-con- 
trol in this respect, to preserve us even in a mode- 
rate degree from errors. I suppose there is scarcely 
one investigator in original research who has not 
felt the temptation to disregard the reasons and 
results which are against his views. I acknowledge 
that I have experienced it very often, and will not 
pretend to say that I have yet learned on all occa- 
sions to avoid the error. When a bar of bismuth 
or phosphorus is placed between the poles of a 
powerful magnet, it is drawn into a position across 
the line joining the poles ; when only one pole is 
near the bar, the latter recedes ; this and the 
former effect is due to repulsion, and is strikingly 
in contrast with the attraction shown by iron. To 
account for it, I at one time suggested the idea 
that a polarity was induced in the phosphorus or 
bismuth the reverse of the polarity induced in iron, 
and that opinion is still sustained by eminent phi- 
losophers. But observe a necessary result of such 
a supposition, which appears to follow when the 
phenomena are referred to elementary principles. 
Time is shown, by every result bearing on the sub- 
ject, to be concerned in the coming on and passing 
away of the inductive condition produced by mag- 
netic force, and the consequence, as Thomson pointed 
out, is, that if a ball of bismuth could be suspended 
[ 7° ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



between the poles of a magnet, so as to encounter 
no resistance from the surrounding medium, or from 
friction or torsion, and were once put in motion 
round a vertical axis, it would, because of the assumed 
polar state, go on for ever revolving, the parts which 
at any moment are axial moving like the bar, so as to 
become the next moment equatorial. Now, as we be- 
lieve the mechanical forces of nature tend to bring 
things into a stable, and not into an unstable con- 
dition ; as we believe that a perpetual motion is im- 
possible ; so because both these points are involved 
in the notion of the reverse polarity, which itself is 
not supposed to be dependant on any consumption of 
power, I feel bound to hold the judgment balanced, 
and therefore hesitate to accept a conclusion founded 
on such a notion of the physical action ; the more 
especially as the peculiar test facts* which prove the 
polarity of iron are not reproduced in the case of 
diamagnetic bodies. 

As a result of this wholesome mental condition, 
we should be able to form a proportionate judgment. 
The mind naturally desires to settle upon one thing 
or another; to rest upon an affirmative or a nega- 
tive; and that with a degree of absolutism which is 
irrational and improper. In drawing a conclusion 
it is very difficult, but not the less necessary, to 

* Experimental Researches in Electricity, paragraphs 2657 — 2681. 

[ n ] a 2 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



make it proportionate to the evidence : except where 
certainty exists (a case of rare occurrence), we should 
consider our decisions as probable only. The pro- 
bability may appear very great, so that in affairs of 
the world we often accept such as certainty, and 
trust our welfare or our lives upon it. Still, only 
an uneducated mind will confound probability with 
certainty, especially when it encounters a contrary 
conclusion drawn by another from like data. This 
suspension in degree of judgment will not make a 
man less active in life, or his conclusions less cer- 
tain as truths ; on the contrary, I believe him to be 
the more ready for the right amount and direction of 
action on any emergency ; and am sure his conclu- 
sions and statements will carry more weight in the 
world than those of the incautious man. 

"When I was young, I received from one well able 
to aid a learner in his endeavours toward self-im- 
provement, a curious lesson in the mode of estimat- 
ing the amount of belief one might be induced to 
attach to our conclusions. The person was Dr. 
Wollaston, who, upon a given point, was induced to 
offer me a wager of two to one on the affirmative. 
I rather impertinently quoted Butler's well-known 
lines* about the kind of persons who use wagers for 

* ' Quoth she, ' I've heard old cunning stagers, 
Say fools for arguments use wagers. ' ' 

[ 7>] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



argument, and lie gently explained to me, that he 
considered such a wager not as a thoughtless thing, 
but as an expression of the amount of belief in the 
mind of the person offering it; combining this curi- 
ous application of the wager, as a meter, with the 
necessity that ever existed of drawing conclusions, 
not absolute but proportionate to the evidence. 

Occasionally and frequently the exercise of the 
judgment ought to end in absolute reservation. It 
may be very distasteful, and great fatigue, to sus- 
pend a conclusion, but as we are not infallible, so 
we ought to be cautious ; we shall eventually find 
our advantage, for the man who rests in his position 
is not so far from right as he who, proceeding in 
a wrong direction, is ever increasing his distance. 
In the year 1824, Arago discovered* that copper 
and other bodies placed in the vicinity of a magnet, 
and having no direct action of attraction or repulsion 
upon it, did affect it when moved, and was affected 
by it. A copper plate revolving near a magnet 
carried the magnet with it ; or if the magnet re- 
volved, and not the copper, it carried the copper with 
it. A magnetic needle vibrating freely over a disc of 
glass or wood, was exceedingly retarded in its motion 
when these were replaced by a disc of copper. Arago 
stated most clearly all the conditions, and resolved 



* Annales de Chimie, xxviii. 325. 
[ 73 ] 



PBOFESSOR FARADAY 



the forces into three directions, but not perceiving 
the physical cause of the action, exercised a most wise 
and instructive reservation as to his conclusion. 
Others, as Haldat, considered it as the proof of the 
universality of a magnetism of the ordinary kind, 
and held to that notion though it was contradicted 
by the further facts ; and it was only at a future 
period that the true physical cause, namely, magneto- 
electric currents induced in the copper, became 
known to us.* What an education Arago's mind must 
have received in relation to philosophical reservation ; 
what an antithesis he forms with the mass of table 
turners ; and what a fine example he has left us of 
that condition of judgment to which we should strive 
to attain ! 

If I may give another illustration of the needful 
reservation of judgment, I will quote the case of 
oxygen and hydrogen gases, which, being mixed, will 
remain together uncombined for years in contact 
with glass, but in contact with spongy platinum com- 
bine at once. We have the same fact in many 
forms, and many suggestions have been made as to 
the mode of action, but as yet we do not know 
clearly how the result comes to pass. We cannot 
tell whether electricity acts or not. Then we should 
suspend our conclusions. Our knowledge of the 

* Philosophical Transactions, 1832, p. 146. 
[ 74 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



fact itself, and the many varieties of it, is not the 
less abundant or sure ; and when the truth shall 
hereafter emerge from the mist, we ought to have 
no opposing prejudice, hut be prepared to receive it. 
The education which I advocate will require 
patience and labour of thought in every exercise tend- 
ing to improve the judgment. It matters not on 
what subject a person's mind is occupied, he should 
engage in it with the conviction that it will require 
mental labour. A powerful mind will be able to 
draw a conclusion more readily and more correctly 
than one of moderate character, but both will sur- 
pass themselves if they make an earnest, careful 
investigation, instead of a careless or prejudiced one ; 
and education for this purpose is the more necessary 
for the latter, because the man of less ability may, 
through it, raise his rank and amend his position. I 
earnestly urge this point of self-education, for I 
believe it to be more or less in the power of every 
man greatly to improve his judgment. I do not 
think that one has the complete capacity for judg- 
ment which another is naturally without. I am of 
opinion that all may judge, and that we only need to 
declare on every side the conviction that mental educa- 
tion is wanting, and lead men to see that through it 
they hold, in a large degree, their welfare and their 
character in their own hands, to cause in future years 
[ 75 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



an abundant development of right judgment in every 
class. 

This education has for its first and its last 
step humility. It can commence only because of a 
conviction of deficiency ; and if we are not dis- 
heartened under the growing revelations which it 
will make, that conviction will become stronger unto 
the end. But the humility will be founded, not on 
comparison of ourselves with the imperfect standards 
around us, but on the increase of that internal 
knowledge which alone can make us aware of our 
internal wants. The first step in correction is to 
learn our deficiencies, and having learned them, the 
next step is almost complete : for no man who has 
discovered that his judgment is hasty, or illogical, 
or imperfect, would go on with the same degree of 
haste, or irrationality, or presumption as before. I 
do not mean that all would at once be cured of bad 
mental habits, but I think better of human nature 
than to believe, that a man in any rank of life, who 
has arrived at the consciousness of such a condition, 
would deny his common sense, and still judge and 
act as before. And though such self-schooling must 
continue to the end of life to supply an experience 
of deficiency rather than of attainment, still there is 
abundant stimulus to excite any man to perseverance. 
What he has lost are things imaginary, not real ; 
[ 76 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



what he gains are riches before unknown to him, 
yet invaluable; and though he may think more 
humbly of his own character, he will find himself at 
every step of his progress more sought for than before, 
more trusted with responsibility and held in pre-emi- 
nence by his equals, and more highly valued by those 
whom he himself will esteem worthy of approbation. 



And now a few words upon the mutual relation 
of two classes, namely, those who decline to educate 
their judgments in regard to the matters on which 
they decide, and those who, by self- education, have 
endeavoured to improve themselves; and upon the 
remarkable and somewhat unreasonable manner in 
which the latter are called upon, and occasionally 
taunted, by the former. A man who makes asser- 
tions, or draws conclusions, regarding any given 
case, ought to be competent to investigate it. He 
has no right to throw the onus on others, declaring 
it their duty to prove him right or wrong. His duty 
is to demonstrate the truth of that which he asserts, 
or to cease from asserting. The men he calls upon 
to consider and judge have enough to do with them- 
selves, in the examination, correction, or verification 
of their own views. The world little knows how 
many of the thoughts and theories which have passed 
through the mind of a scientific investigator have 
t 77 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



been crushed in silence and secrecy by his own 
severe criticism and adverse examination; that in 
the most successful instances not a tenth of the 
suggestions, the hopes, the wishes, the preliminary 
conclusions have been realised. And is a man so 
occupied to be taken from his search after truth in 
the path he hopes may lead to its attainment, and 
occupied in vain upon nothing but a broad assertion ? 
Neither has the assertor of any new thing a right 
to claim an answer in the form of Yes or No ; or 
think, because none is forthcoming, that he is to be 
considered as having established his assertion. So 
much is unknown to the wisest man, that he may often 
be without an answer : as frequently he is so, because 
the subject is in the region of hypothesis, and not of 
facts. In either case he has the right to refuse to 
speak. I cannot tell whether there are two fluids of 
electricity or any fluid at all. I am not bound to 
explain how a table tilts any more than to indicate 
how, under the conjurer's hands, a pudding appears 
in a hat. The means are not known to me. I am 
persuaded that the results, however strange they may 
appear, are in accordance with that which is truly 
known, and if carefully investigated would justify the 
well-tried laws of nature ; but, as life is limited, I am 
not disposed to occupy the time it is made of in the 
investigation of matters which, in what is known to 
[ 78 • I ' 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



me of them, offer no reasonable prospect of any useful 
progress, or anything but negative results. We deny 
the right of those who call upon us to answer their 
speculations ' if we can,' whilst we have so many of 
our own to develope and correct ; and claim the right 
for ourselves of withholding either our conclusions or 
the reasons for them, without in the least degree ad- 
mitting that their affirmations are unanswerable. We 
are not even called upon to give an answer to the 
best of our belief : nor bound to admit a bold asser- 
tion because we do not know to the contrary. No 
one is justified in claiming our assent to the spon- 
taneous generation of insects, because we cannot cir- 
cumstantially explain how a mite or the egg of a mite 
has entered into a particular bottle. Let those who 
affirm the exception to the general law of nature, or 
those others who upon the affirmation accept the re- 
sult, work out the experimental proof. It has been 
done in this case by Schulze,* and is in the negative ; 
but how few among the many who make, or repeat, 
the assertion, would have the requisite self-abnegation, 
the subjected judgment, the perseverance, and the 
precision which has been displayed in that research. 

When men, more or less marked by their advance, 
are led by circumstances to give an opinion adverse to 

* MiJLLER's Physiology, or Poggendorf's Annalen, 1836, xxxix. 
p. 487. 

[ 79 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



any popular notion, or to the assertions of any san- 
guine inventor, nothing is more usual than the attempt 
to neutralize the force of such an opinion by refer- 
ence to the mistakes which like educated men have 
made; and their occasional misjudgments and erro- 
neous conclusions are quoted, as if they were less 
competent than others to give an opinion, being even 
disabled from judging like matters to those which are 
included in their pursuits by the very exercise of their 
minds upon them. How frequently has the reported 
judgment of Davy, upon the impossibility of gas- 
lighting on a large scale, been quoted by speculators 
engaged in tempting monied men into companies, or 
in the pages of journals occupied with the popular 
fancies of the day ; as if an argument were derivable 
from that in favour of some special object to be com- 
mended. Why should not men taught in the matter 
of judgment far beyond their neighbours, be expected 
to err sometimes, since the very education in which 
they are advanced can only terminate with their 
lives ? What is there about them, derived from this 
education, which sets up the shadow of a pretence to 
perfection ? Such men cannot learn all things, and 
may often be ignorant. The very progress which 
science makes amongst them as a body is a continual 
correction of ignorance — i. e., of a state which is 
ignorance in relation to the future, though wisdom 
[80] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



and knowledge in relation to the past. In 1823, 
Wollaston discovered that beautiful substance which 
he called Titanium, believing it to be a simple metal : 
and it was so accepted by all philosophers. Yet this 
was a mistake, for Wohler,* in 1850, showed the 
substance was a very compound body. This is no 
reproach to Wollaston or to those who trusted in 
him ; he made a step in metallurgy which advanced 
knowledge, and perhaps we may hereafter, through 
it, learn to know that metals are compound bodies. 
Who, then, has a right to quote his mistake as a re- 
proach against him ? Who could correct him but men 
intellectually educated as he himself was ? Who does 
not feel that the investigation remains a bright gem 
in the circlet that memory offers to his honour ? 

If we are to estimate the utility of an educated 
judgment, do not let us hear merely of the errors of 
scientific men, which have been corrected by others 
taught in the same careful school ; but let us see 
what, as a body, they have produced, compared with 
that supplied by their reproachers. Where are the 
established truths and triumphs of ring-swingers, 
table-turners, table-speakers ? What one result in 
the numerous divisions of science or its applications 
can be traced to their exertions ? Where is the in- 
vestigation completed, so that, as in gas-lighting, all 



Annales de Chimie, xxix. p. 166. 

[ s* ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



ma}' - admit that the principles are established and a 
good end obtained, without the shadow of a doubt ? 
If we look to electricity, it, in the hands of the 
careful investigator, has advanced to the most extra- 
ordinary results : it approaches at the motion of his 
hand ; bursts from the metal ; descends from the 
atmosphere ; surrounds the globe : it talks, it writes, 
it records, it appears to him (cautious as he has learned 
to become) as a universal spirit in nature. If we 
look to photography, whose origin is of our own 
day, and see what it has become in the hands of 
its discoverers and their successors, how wonderful are 
the results ! The light is made to yield impressions 
upon the dead silver or the coarse paper, beautiful as 
those it produced upon the living and sentient retina : 
its most transient impression is rendered durable for 
years ; it is made to leave a visible or an invisible 
trace ; to give a result to be seen now or a year hence ; 
made to paint all natural forms and even colours • 
it serves the offices of war, of peace, of art, science, 
and economy : it replaces even the mind of the 
human being in some of its lower services ; for a 
little camphine lamp is set down and left to itself, to 
perform the duty of watching the changes of mag- 
netism, heat, and other forces of nature, and to record 
the results, in pictorial curves, which supply an en- 
during record of their most transitory actions. 

[ 82 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



What has clairvoyance, or mesmerism, or table-rap- 
ping done in comparison with results like these? What 
have the snails at Paris told us from the snails at New 
York ? What have any of these intelligences done 
in aiding such developments ? Why did they not 
inform us of the possibility of photography ? or 
when that became known, why did they not favour 
us with some instructions for its improvement ? 
They all profess to deal with agencies far more ex- 
alted in character than an electric current or a ray 
of light : they also deal with mechanical forces ; they 
employ both the bodily organs and the mental ; they 
profess to lift a table, to turn a hat, to see into a box, 
or into the next room, or a town : — why should they 
not move a balance, and so give us the element of a 
new mechanical power ? take cognizance of a bottle 
and its contents, and tell us how they will act upon 
those of a neighbouring bottle ? either see or feel into 
a crystal, and inform us of what it is composed ? 
Why have they not added one metal to the fifty 
known to mankind, or one planet to the number daily 
increasing under the observant eye of the astronomer ? 
Why have they not corrected one of the mistakes of 
the philosophers ? There are no doubt very many 
that require it. There has been plenty of time for the 
development and maturation of some of the numerous 
public pretences that have risen up in connexion with 
[83 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



these supposed agencies ; how is it that not one new 
power has been added to the means of investigation 
employed by the philosophers, or one valuable utili- 
tarian application presented to society ? 

In conclusion, I will freely acknowledge that all I 
have said regarding the great want of judgment 
manifested by society as a body, and the high value 
of any means which would tend to supply the defi- 
ciency, have been developed and declared on nume- 
rous occasions, by authority far above any I possess. 
The deficiency is known hypothetically, but I doubt if 
in reality ; the individual acknowledges the state in 
respect of others, but is unconscious of it in regard 
to himself. As to the world at large, the condition is 
accepted as a necessary fact ; and so it is left un- 
touched, almost ignored. I think that education in 
a large sense should be applied to this state of the 
subject, and that society, though it can do little in the 
way of communicated experience, can do much, by a 
declaration of the evil that exists and of its reme- 
diable character ; by keeping alive a sense of the 
deficiency to be supplied ; and by directing the minds 
of men to the practice and enlargement of that self- 
education which every one pursues more or less, but 
which under conviction and method would produce a 
tenfold amount of good. I know that the multitude 
will always be behindhand in this education, and to 
[ -84 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



a far greater extent than in respect of the education 
which is founded on book learning. Whatever ad- 
vance books make, they retain ; but each new being 
comes on to the stage of life, with the same average 
amount of conceit, desires, and passions, as his pre- 
decessors, and in respect of self-education has all 
to learn. Does the circumstance that we can do 
little more than proclaim the necessity of instruc- 
tion justify the ignorance ? or our silence ? or make 
the plea for this education less strong ? Should 
it not, on the contrary, gain its strength from the fact 
that all are wanting more or less ? I desire we should 
admit that, as a body, we are universally deficient in 
judgment. I do not mean that we are utterly igno- 
rant, but that we have advanced only a little way in 
the requisite education, compared with what is within 
our power. 

If the necessity of the education of the judgment 
were a familiar and habitual idea with the public, it 
would often afford a sufficient answer to the statement 
of an ill-informed or incompetent person; if quoted 
to recall to his remembrance the necessity of a mind 
instructed in a matter, and accustomed to balance 
evidence, it might frequently be an answer to the 
individual himself. Adverse influence might, and 
would, arise from the careless, the confident, the 
presumptuous, the hasty, and the dilatory man, 
[ 8 5 ] H 



PROFESSOR FARADAY 



perhaps extreme opposition ; but I believe that the 
mere acknowledgment and proclamation of the igno- 
rance, by society at large, would, through its moral 
influence, destroy the opposition, and be a great means 
to the attainment of the good end desired : for if no 
more be done than to lead such to turn their thoughts 
inwards, a step in education is gained : if they are 
convinced in any degree, an important advance is 
made; if they learn only to suspend their judgment, 
the improvement will be one above price. 

It is an extraordinary thing that man, with a mind 
so wonderful that there is nothing to compare with it 
elsewhere in the known creation, should leave it to 
run wild in respect of its highest elements and quali- 
ties. He has a power of comparison and judgment, 
by which his final resolves, and all those acts of his 
material system which distinguish him from the 
brutes, are guided : — shall he omit to educate and 
improve them when education can do much ? Is it 
towards the very principles and privileges that dis- 
tinguish him above other creatures, he should feel 
indifference ? Because the education is internal, it is 
not the less needful ; nor is it more the duty of a 
man that he should cause his child to be taught than 
that he should teach himself. Indolence may tempt 
him to neglect the self-examination and experience 
which form his school, and weariness may induce 
[ 86 ] 



ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 



the evasion of the necessary practices ; but surely a 
thought of the prize should suffice to stimulate him 
to the requisite exertion : and to those who reflect 
upon the many hours and days, devoted by a lover 
of sweet sounds, to gain a moderate facility upon a 
mere mechanical instrument, it ought to bring a 
correcting blush of shame, if they feel convicted of 
neglecting the beautiful living instrument, wherein 
play all the powers of the mind. 

I will conclude this subject ; — believe me when I 
say I have been speaking from self-conviction. I did 
not think this an occasion on which I ought to seek for 
flattering words regarding our common nature; if so, 
I should have felt unfaithful to the trust I had taken 
up ; so I have spoken from experience. In thought 
I hear the voice, which judges me by the precepts I 
have uttered. I know that I fail frequently in that 
very exercise of judgment to which I call others; and 
have abundant reason to believe that much more fre- 
quently I stand manifest to those around me, as one 
who errs, without being corrected by knowing it. I 
would willingly have evaded appearing before you on 
this subject, for I shall probably do but little good, 
and may well think it was an error of judgment to 
consent : having consented, my thoughts would 
flow back amongst the events and reflections of my 
past life, until I found nothing present itself but an 
[ 87 ] 



PROFESSOR FARADAY ON MENTAL EDUCATION. 

open declaration, almost a confession, as the means of 
performing the duty due to the subject and to you. 



NOTE REFERRED TO, p. 54. 

As an illustration of the present state of the subject, I will quote 
one letter from among many like it which I have received. — M. F. 

'April 5, 1854. 

' Sir, — I am one of the clergymen of this parish, and have had the 
subject of table-turning brought under my notice by some of my 
younger parishioners ; I gave your solution of it as a sufficient answer 
to the mystery. The reply was made, that you had since seen reason 
to alter your opinion. Would you have the politeness to inform me 
if you have done so ? With many apologies for troubling you, 
■ I am, your obedient servant, 



[ 88 ] 



ON THE 

IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE AS 

A BEANCH OF EDUCATION FOE 

ALL CLASSES: 

A LECTURE DELIVERED AT TEE ROYAL INSTITUTION 
OF GREAT BRITAIN. 



ROBT. GORDON LATHAM, M.D., F.R.S. 



ON THE 



STUDY OF LANGUAGE. 



HP HE subject I have the honour of illustrating is 
-*- ' The Importance of the Study of Language as a 
means of Education for all Classes.' 

I open it by drawing a distinction. 

A little consideration will show that that differ- 
ence between the study of a given subject in its 
general and abstract and the study of one in its 
applied or concrete form, which finds place in so 
many departments of human knowledge, finds place 
in respect to Language and Languages. It finds place 
in the subject before us as truly as it does in that 
science, which one of my able successors will have 
the honour of illustrating, — the science of the laws 
of Life — Physiology or Biology. Just as there is 
therein a certain series of laws relating to life and 
organization, which would command our attention, 
if the whole animal and vegetable world consisted of 
[ 9i ] 12 



DR. E. G. LATHAM 



but a single species, so the study of Speech would 
find place in a well-devised system of education, even 
if the tongues of the whole wide world were reduced 
to a single language, and that language to a single 
dialect. This is because the science of life is one 
thing, the science of the forms under which the phe- 
nomena of life are manifested, another. And just as 
Physiology, or Biology, is, more or less, anterior to 
and independent of such departments of study as 
Botany and Zoology, so, in the subject under notice, 
there is the double division of the study of Language 
in respect to structure and development, and the 
study of Languages as instances of the variety of 
form in which the phenomenon of human speech ex- 
hibits, or has exhibited, itself. Thus — 

When (as I believe once to have been the case) 
there was but a single language on the face of the 
earth, the former of these divisions had its subject- 
matter. And — 

When (as is by no means improbable) one para- 
mount and exclusive tongue, developed, at first, rapidly 
and at the expense of the smaller languages of the 
world, and, subsequently, slowly and at that of the 
more widely-diffused ones, shall, have replaced the 
still numerous tongues of the nineteenth century; and 
when all the dialects of the world shall be merged 
into one Universal Language, the same subject-matter 
[ 9* ] 



ON THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE. 



for the study of the structure of Language, its growth 
and changes, will still exist. 

So that the study of Language is one thing, the 
study of Languages, another. 

They are different; and the intellectual powers 
that they require and exercise are different also. 
The greatest comparative philologists have, generally, 
been but moderate linguists. 

A certain familiarity with different languages they 
have, of course, had; and as compared with that 
of the special scholar — the Classic or the Orien- 
talist, for instance — their range of language (so to 
say) has been a wide one ; but it has rarely been 
of that vast compass which is found in men after the 
fashion of Mezzofanti, &c. — men who have spoken 
languages by the dozen, or the score ; — but who have 
left comparative philology as little advanced as if 
their learning had been bounded by the limits of 
their own mother tongue. 

Now this difference, always of more or less im- 
portance in itself, increases when we consider Lan- 
guage as an object of education ; and it is for the 
sake of illustrating it that the foregoing preliminaries 
have been introduced. No opinion is given as to 
the comparative rank or dignity of the two studies; 
no decision upon the nobihty or ignobility of the 
faculties involved in the attainment of excellence in 
[93 ] 



DR. E, G. LATHAM 



either. The illustration of a difference is all that 
has been aimed at. There is a difference between 
the two classes of subjects, and a difference between 
the two kinds of mental faculties. Let us make this 
difference clear. Let us also give it prominence and 
importance. 

One main distinction between the study of Lan- 
guage and the study of Languages lies in the fact of 
the value of the former being constant, that of the 
latter, fluctuating. The relative importance of any two 
languages, as objects of special attention, scarcely 
ever remains steady. The value, for instance, of the 
German — to look amongst the cotemporary forms 
of speech — has notably risen within the present 
century. And why ? Because the literature in 
which it is embodied has improved. Because the 
scientific knowledge which, to all who want the 
key, is (so to say) locked up in it, has increased 
some hundred per cent. 

But it may go down again. Suppose, for in- 
stance, that new writers of pre-eminent merit, ennoble 
some of the minor languages of Europe — the Danish, 
Swedish, Dutch, &c. Such a fact would divide the 
attention of savans — attention which can only be 
bestowed upon some second, at the expense of some 
first, object. In such a case, the extent to which 
the German language got studied would be affected 



[ 94] 



ON THE STUDY OP LANGUAGE. 



nmcli in the same way as that of the French was by 
the development of the literature of Germany. 

Or the area over which a language is spoken may 
increase; as it may, also, diminish. 

Or the number of individuals that speak it may 
multiply — the area being the same. 

Or the special application of the language, whether 
for the purposes of commerce, literature, science, or 
politics, may become changed. In this way, as well 
as in others, the English is becoming, day by day, 
more important. 

There are other influences. 

High as is the value of the great classical lan- 
guages of Greece and Rome, we can easily conceive 
how that value might be enhanced. Let a manu- 
script containing the works of some of the lost, or 
imperfectly preserved, writers of antiquity be dis- 
covered. Let, for instance, Gibbon's desiderata — 
the lost Decads of Livij, the Orations of Hyperides, 
or the Dramas of Menander — be made good : the 
per-centage of classical scholars would increase; 
little or much. 

Some years back it was announced that the 
Armenian language contained translations, made 
during the earlier centimes of our era, of certain 
classical and ecclesiastical writings, of which the 
originals had been lost — lost in the interval. This 
[95 ] 



DR. R. G. LATHAM 



did not exactly make the Armenian, with its alphabet 
of six-and-thirty letters, a popular tongue ; but it 
made it, by a fraction, more popular than it was in 
the days of Whiston and La Croze, when those two 
alone, of all the learned men of Europe, could read it. 

Translations tell in another way. Whatever is 
worth reading in the Danish and Swedish is forthwith 
translated into German. E. g. Professor Ptetzius of 
Stockholm wrote a good Manual of Anatomy. He 
had the satisfaction of seeing it translated into Ger- 
man. He had the further satisfaction of hearing that 
the translation ran through five editions in less time 
than the original did through one. 

Now, if the Germans were to leave off translating 
the value of the language in which Professor Ret- 
zius wrote his Anatomy would rise. 

Upon the whole, the French is, perhaps, the most 
important language of the nineteenth century ; yet 
it is only where we take into consideration the whole 
of its elements of value. To certain special savans, 
the German is worth more; to the artist, the Italian; 
to the American, the Spanish. It fell, too, in value 
when nations like our own insisted upon the use of 
their native tongues in diplomacy. It fell in value 
because it became less indispensable ; and another 
cause, now in operation, affects the same element of 
indispensability. The French are beginning to learn 
[ 96 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE. 



the languages of other nations. Their own literature 
will certainly be none the worse for their so doing. 
But it by no means follows that that literature will 
be any the more studied; on the contrary, French- 
men will learn English more, and, pro tanto, English- 
men learn French less. 

If all this have illustrated a difference, it may 
also have done something more. It may have given 
a rough sketch, in the way of classification, of the 
kind of facts that regulate the value of special lan- 
guages as special objects of study. At any rate 
(and this is the main point), the subject-matter of 
the present Address is narrowed. It is narrowed (in 
the first instance at least) to the consideration of 
that branch of study whereof the value is constant ; 
for assuredly it is this which will command more 
than a moiety of our consideration. 

This may be said to imply a preference to the 
study of Language as opposed to that of Languages — 
a singular preference, as a grammarian may, perhaps, 
be allowed to call it. It cannot be denied that, to 
a certain extent, such is the case; but it is only so 
to a certain extent. The one is not magnified at 
the expense of the other. When all has been said 
that logic or mental philosophy can say about the 
high value of comparative philology, general gram- 
mar, and the like, the lowest value of the least impor- 
L 97 J 



DR. E. G. LATHAM 



tant language will still stand high; and pre-eminently 
high that of what may be called the noble Languages. 
No variations in the philological barometer, no fluc- 
tuations in the Exchange of Language, will ever bring 
down the advantage of studying one, two, or even 
more foreign languages to so low a level as to expel 
such tongues as the Latin, the Greek, the French, 
or the German, one and all, from an English curri- 
culum — and vice versa, English from a foreign one. 

Now, if this be the case, one of the elements in 
the value of the study of Language in general will 
be the extent to which it facilitates the acquirement 
of any one language in particular, and this element 
of value will be an important — though not the most 
important — one. 

The structure of the human body is worth know- 
ing, even if the investigator of it be neither a prac- 
titioner in medicine nor a teacher of anatomy ; and, 
in like maimer, the structure of the human language 
is an important study irrespective of the particular 
forms of speech whereof it may facilitate the acquire- 
ment. 

The words on the diagram-board will now be ex- 
plained. They are meant to illustrate the class of 
facts that comparative philology supplies. 

The first runs — 
KLEIN : CLEAN :.: PETIT : PETITUS. 
[98 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE. 



It shows the extent to which certain ideas are 
associated. It shows, too, something more ; it 
shows that such an association is capable of being 
demonstrated from the phenomena of language in- 
stead of being a mere a priori speculation on the 
part of the mental philosopher. 

Klein is the German for little ; clean is our own 
English adjective, the English of the Latin word 
mundus. In German the word is rein. 

Now, notwithstanding the difference of meaning 
in the two tongues, clean and Jclein are one and the 
same word. Yet, how are the ideas of cleanliness 
and littleness connected ? The Greek language has 
the word hypocorisma, meaning a term of endearment, 
and the adjective hypocoristic. Now, clean-ness, or 
neat-ness, is one of the elements that make hypoco- 
ristic terms (or terms of endearment) applicable. And 
so is smallness. We talk of pretty little dears, a 
thousand times, where we talk of pretty biff dears 
once. This, then, explains the connexion ; this tells 
us that clean in English is klei?i in German, word 
for word. 

You doubt it, perhaps. You shake your head, and 
say, that the connexion seems somewhat indefinite ; 
that it is just one of those points which can neither 
be proved nor disproved. Be it so. The evidence 
can be amended. Observe the words petit and 
[ 99 ] 



DR. E. G. LATHAM 



petitus. Petit (in French) is exactly what klein is 
in German, i. e., little. Petitus (in Latin) is very 
nearly what clean is in English;, i. e., desired, or 
desirable. That petit comes from petitus is undeniable. 

Hence, where the German mode of thought con- 
nects the ideas of smallness and cleanness, the Latin 
connects those of smallness and desirability ; so that 
as petit is to petitus, so is Mem to clean. In the 
diagram this is given in the formula of a sum in the 
llule of Three. 

The words just noticed explain the connexion of 
ideas in the case of separate words. The forth- 
coming help us in a much more difficult investiga- 
tion. What is the import of such sounds as that of 
the letter s in the word father-s ? It is the sign of 
the plural number. 

Such is the question — such the answer ; question 
and answer connected in the word fathers solely for 
the sake of illustration. Any other word, and any 
other sign of case, number, person, or tense, would 
have done as well. 

But is the answer a real one ? Is it an answer 
at all ? How come such things as plural numbers, 
and signs of plural numbers, into language ? How 
the particular plural before us came into being, I 
cannot say ; but I can show how some plurals have. 
Let us explain the following — 

[ IOO ] 



ON THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE. 



NGI = I. NGI-N-DE = WE. 
NGO = THOU. NGO-N-DA= YE. 
NGU = HE. NGE-N-DA = THEY. 

DA = WITH. 

ME - CUM = ME. 

The da (or de) in the second column, is the sign 
of the plural number in a language which shall 
at present be nameless. It is also the preposition 
with. Now with denotes association; association 
'plurality. Hence 

Ngi -n-de = I -J- = we. 
Ngo - n - da = thou -|- = ye. 
Nge - n - da he -f- = they. 

This is just as if the Latins, instead of nos and vos, 
said me-cum and te-cum. 

Such is the history of one mode of expressing the 
idea of plurality ; we can scarcely say of a plural 
number. The words plural number suggest the idea 
of a single word, like fathers, where the s is insepar- 
ably connected with the root, at least so far in- 
separably connected as to have no independent exist- 
ence of its own. Ngi-n-de, however, is no single 
word at all, but a pair of words in juxta-position, 
each with a separate existence of its own. But 
what if this juxta-position grow into amalgamation ; 
[ -o. ] 



DR. E. G. LATHAM 



What if the form in da change ? What if it be- 
come t or z, or th, or s ? What if, meanwhile, the 
separate preposition da change in form also ; in form 
or meaning, or, perhaps, in both ? In such a case 
a true plural form is evolved, the history of its 
evolution being a mystery. 

So much for one of the inflections of a noun. The 
remaining words illustrate one of a verb. 

Hundreds of grammarians have suggested that 
the signs of the persons in the verb might be neither 
more nor less than the personal pronouns appended, 
in the first instance, to the verb, but, afterwards 
amalgamated or incorporated with it. If so, the 
-m in inqua-m, is the m in me, &c. The late Mr. 
Garnett, a comparative philologist whose reputation 
is far below his merits, saw that this was not exactly 
the case. He observed that the appended pronoun was 
not so much the Personal as the Possessive one : that 
the analysis of a word like inqua-m was not so much, 
say-\-I, as saying -\- my ; in short, that the verb was 
a noun, and the pronoun either an adjective (like 
metis) or an oblique case (like met), agreeing with, or 
governed by, it. 

It is certainly so in the words before you. In a 
language, which, at present, shall be nameless, instead 
of saying my apple, thy apple, they say what is equi- 
valent to apple-m, apple-th, &c. ; i. e., they append 
[ I02 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE. 



the possessive pronoun to the substantive, and by 
modifying its form, partially incorporate or amal- 
gamate it. They do more than this. They do (as 
the diagram shows us) precisely the same with the 
verbs in their personal as they do with the nouns in 
their possessive relations. Hence, olvas-om, &c, is 
less / read than my -reading ; less read -\- 1, than 
reading -J- my. 

i. 

OLVAS— OM = I HEAD. 

OD = THOU READEST. 
UK = WE READ. 
ATOK = YE READ. 



ALMA— M = MY APPLE. 
D = THY APPLE. 
NK = OUR APPLE. 
TOK YOUR APPLE. 

I submit, that facts of this kind are of some value, 
great or small. But the facts themselves are not all. 
How were they got at ? They were got at by deal- 
ing with the phenomena of language as we found 
them, by an induction of no ordinary width and 
compass ; and many forms of speech had to be investi- 
[ 103 ] 



DR. R. G. LATHAM 



gated before the facts came out in their best and 
most satisfactory form. 

The illustration of the verb (olvasom, and almam, 
&c.) is from the Hungarian ; that of the plural number 
(nginde, Sic), from the Tumali — the Tumali being a 
language no nearer than the negro districts to the 
south of Kordovan, between Sennaar and Darfur, 
and (as such) not exactly in the highway of literature 
and philology. 

Now I ask whether there be, or whether there be 
not, certain branches of inquiry which are, at one 
and the same time, recognised to be of the highest 
importance, and yet not even remarkable for either 
unanimity of opinion, precision of language, or dis- 
tinctness of idea on the part of their professors. I 
ask whether what is called, with average clearness, 
Mental Philosophy, and, with somewhat less clear- 
ness, Metaphysics, be not in this predicament ? 
I ask whether, in this branch of investigation, the 
subject-matter do not eminently desiderate some- 
thing definite, palpable, and objective, and whether 
these same desiderated tangibilities be not found in 
the wide field of Language to an extent which no 
other field supplies ? Let this field be a training- 
ground. The facts it gives are of value. The method 
it requires is of value. 

As the languages of the world, the forms of speech 

[ I0 4 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE. 



mutually unintelligible, are counted by the hundred, 
and the dialects by the thousand, the field is a large 
one — one supplying much exercise, work, and labour. 
But the applications of the results obtained are wide 
also ; for, as long as any form of mental philosophy 
remains susceptible of improvement, as long as its 
improved form remains undiffused, so long will a 
knowledge of the structure of language in general, 
a knowledge of comparative philology, a knowledge 
of general grammar (for we may choose our term), 
have its use and application. And, assuredly, this 
will be for some time. 

As to its special value in the particular department 
of the ethnologist, high as it is, I say nothing, or 
next to nothing, about it ; concerning myself only 
with its more general applications. 

Let it be said, then, that the study of language 
is eminently disciplinal to those faculties that are 
tasked in the investigation of the phenomena of the 
human mind ; the value of a knowledge of these 
being a matter foreign to the present dissertation, 
but being by no means low. High or low, however, 
it measures that of the studies under notice. 

But how is this general philology to be taught ? 

Are youths to seek for roots and processes in such 

languages as the Hungarian and the Tumali ? No. 

The teaching must be by means of well-selected 

[ 105 1 K 



DR. R. G. LATHAM 



suggestive examples, whereby the student may rise 
from particulars to generals, and be taught to infer 
the uncertain from the certain. I do not say that 
the s in fathers arose exactly after the fashion of the 
Tumali plural ; but, assuredly, its development was 
the same in kind, if not in detail. At all events, 
language must be dealt with as a groivth. 

In the first stage of speech, there are no inflections 
at all, separate words serving instead of them : — just 
as if, instead of saying fathers, we said father many, 
or father father ; reduplication being one of the 
make-shifts (so to say) of this period. The languages 
allied to the Chinese belong to this class. 

In the second stage, the separate words coalesce, 
but not so perfectly as to disfigure their originally 
separate character. The Hungarian persons have illus- 
trated this. Language now becomes what is called 
agglutinate. The parts cohere, but the cohesion is 
imperfect. The majority of languages are agglutinate. 

The Latin and Greek tongues illustrate the third 
stage. The parts originally separate, then agglu- 
tinate, now become so modified by contact as to 
look like secondary parts of a single word ; these 
original separate substantive characters being a mat- 
ter of inference rather than a patent and transparent 
fact. The s in fathers (which is also the s in patre-s 
and 7raTcjOE-e) is in this predicament. 

[ "6 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE. 



Lastly, inflections are replaced by prepositions 
and auxiliary verbs, as is the case in the Italian and 
French when compared with the Latin. 

Truly, then, may we say that the phenomena of 
speech are the phenomena of growth, evolution, or 
development ; and as such must they be taught. A 
cell that grows, — not a crystal that is built up, — such 
is language. 

But these well-devised selections of suggestive 
examples, whereby the student may rise from par- 
ticulars to generals, &c, is not to be found in the 
ordinary grammars. Indeed, it is the very reverse 
of the present system ; where there are twenty appeals 
to the memory in the shape of what is called a rule, for 
one appeal to the understanding in the shape of an 
illustrated process. So much the worse for the 
existing methods. 

Moulds applied to growing trees — cookery-book 
receipts for making a natural juice — these are the 
parallels to the artificial systems of grammar in their 
worst forms. The better can be excused, sometimes 
recommended; even as the Linnsean system of 
botanical teaching can, in certain cases, be used 
with safety, provided always that its artificial charac- 
ter be explained beforehand, and insisted on throughout 

To stand on the level of the Linnsean system, an 
artificial grammar must come under the following 
[ 107 ] K 2 



DR. R. G. LATHAM 



condition : — It must leave the student nothing to un- 
learn ivhen he comes to a natural one. 

How can this be done ? Tt can be done, if the 
grammarian will be content to teach forms only, 
leaving processes alone. Let him say (for instance) 
that the Latin for — 

/ call is voc-o. 

TJiou callest, voc-as. 

Calling, voc-ans. 

/ called, v oc-avi, &c. 
But do not let him say that active aorists are formed 
from futures, and passive ones from the third person 
singular of the perfect. His forms, his paradigms, 
will be right ; his rules, in nine cases out of ten, 
wrong. I am satisfied that languages can be taught 
without rules, and by paradigms only. 

This recognition of what has been called artificial 
grammar for the teaching of special languages, as 
opposed to the general grammar of the comparative 
philologist, should serve to anticipate an objection. 
1 Would you/ it may be asked, f leave the details of 
languages like the Latin, Greek, French, German, 
&c. — languages of eminent practical utility — untaught 
until such time as the student shall have dipped into 
Chinese, touched upon Hungarian, and taken a 
general idea of the third stage from the Latin, and 
of the fourth from the French ? If so, the period 
[ i°8 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE. 



of life when the memory for words is strongest 
will have passed away before any language but his 
own mother-tongue has been acquired/ 

The recognition of such a thing as artificial gram- 
mar answers this in the negative. If a special 
language be wanted, let it be taught by-times : only 
if it cannot be taught in the most scientific manner, 
let it be taught in a manner as little unscientific 
as possible. 

In this lies an argument against the ordinary 
teaching (I speak as an Englishman) of English. 
What do we learn by it ? 

In the ordinary teaching of what is called the 
grammar of the English language there are two 
elements. There is something professed to be 
taught which is not, but which, if taught, would be 
worth learning; and there is something which, from 
being afready learned better than any man can 
teach it, requires no lessons. The one (the latter) 
is the use and practice of the English tongue. This 
the Englishman has already. The other is the 
principles of grammar. With existing text-books 
this is an impossibility. What then is taught. Some- 
thing (I am quoting from what I have written else- 
where) undoubtedly. The facts, that language is 
more or less regular; that there is such a thing as 
grammar ; that certain expressions should be avoided, 
[ 10 9 ] 



DR. R. G. LATHAM. 



are all matters worth knowing. And they are all 
taught even by the worst method of teaching. But 
are these the proper objects of systematic teaching ? 
Is the importance of their acquisition equivalent to 
the time, the trouble, and the displacement of more 
valuable subjects, which are involved in their expla- 
nation ? I think not. Gross vulgarity of language 
is a fault to be prevented ; but the proper prevention 
is to be got from habit — not rules. The proprieties 
of the English language are to be learned, like the 
proprieties of English manners, by conversation and 
intercourse ; and a proper school for both, is the 
best society in which the learner is placed. If this 
be good, systematic teaching is superfluous ; if bad, 
insufficient. There are undoubted points where a 
young person may doubt as to the grammatical 
propriety of a certain expression. In this case let 
him ask some one older, and more instructed. 
Grammar, as an art, is, undoubtedly, the art of 
speaking and writing correctly — but then, as an art, 
it is only required for foreign languages. For our 
own we have the necessary practice and familiarity. 

The true claim of English grammar to form part 
and parcel of an English education stands or falls 
with the value of the philological knowledge to 
which grammatical studies may serve as an intro- 
duction, and with the value of scientific grammar as 

[ »•■] 



(M THE STUDY OF LANGUAGE. 



a disciplinal study. I have no fear of being sup- 
posed to undervalue its importance in this respect. 
Indeed, in assuming that it is very great, I also 
assume that wherever grammar is studied as grammar, 
the language which the grammar so studied should 
represent, must be the mother-tongue of the student ; 
whatever that mother-tongue may be — English for 
Englishmen, Welsh for Welshmen, French for French- 
men, German for Germans, &c. This study is the 
study of a theory; and for this reason it should be 
complicated as little as possible by points of practice. 
For this reason a man's mother-tongue is the best 
medium for the elements of scientific philology, simply 
because it is the one which he knows best in practice. 

Limit, then, the teaching of English, except so 
far as it is preparatory to the study of language in 
general ; with which view, teach as scientifically as 
possible. 

Go further. Except in special cases, limit the 
teaching of the classical tongues to one out of 
the two. One, for all disciplinal purposes, is 
enough. In this, go far. Dead though the tongue 
be, and object of ridicule as the occupation is becom- 
ing, go to the length of writing verses, though only 
in a few of the commoner metres. Go far, and go in 
one direction only. There are reasons for this single- 
ness of path. I fear that there is almost a necessity. 
[ «x] 



DR. E, G. LATHAM 



As long as men believed that the ordinary Latin and 
Greek grammars were good things of themselves, 
and that, even if they did not carry the student far 
into the classics, they told him something of value 
respecting language in general, a little learning in 
the dead languages was a good thing. But what if 
the grammars are not good things ? What if they 
are absolutely bad ? In such a case, the classical 
tongues cease to be learnt except for themselves. 
Now, one of the few things that is more useless than 
a little Latin is a little Greek. 

Am I wrong in saying that, with nine out of ten 
who learn both Latin and Greek, the knowledge of 
the two tongues conjointly is not greater than the 
knowledge of one of them singly ought to be ? 

Am I wrong in believing that the tendencies of 
the age are in favour of decreasing rather than 
increasing the amount of time bestowed upon classical 
scholarship ? 

Unless I be so, the necessity for a limitation is 
apparent. 

To curtail English — to eliminate one of the classi- 
cal tongues — possibly that of Pericles, at any rate, 
either that of Pericles or of Cicero — to substitute for 
the ordinary elements of a so-called classical educa- 
tion illustrations from the Chinese, the Hungarian, 
or the Tumali — this is what I have recommended. 
[ »»] 



ON THE STUDY OP LANGUAGE. 



I cannot but feel that in so doing I may seem to 
some to have been false to my text, which was to 
eulogize things philological. They may say, Call 
you this backing your friends ? I do. It is not by 
glorifying one's own more peculiar studies that such 
studies gain credit. To show the permanent, rather 
than the accidental, elements of their value, is the 
best service that can be done for them. It is also 
good service to show that they can be taught with 
a less expenditure of time and labour than is usually 
bestowed on them. But the best service of all is to 
indicate their disciplinal value; and to show that, 
instead of displacing other branches of knowledge, 
they so exercise certain faculties of the mind as to 
prepare the way to them. 



[ "3 ] 



ON THE 

IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY 

AS A BEANCH OF EDUCATION 

FOE ALL CLASSES: 

A LECTUEE DELIVEEED AT THE ROYAL INSTITUTION 
OF GEEAT BRITAIN. 



CHARLES G. B. DATJBENY, M.D. F.E.S. 

PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY AND OF BOTANY IN THE 
UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 



ON THE 

IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF 
CHEMISTRY 

AS A MEANS OF EDUCATION. 



T CAN imagine one of the regular frequenters of 
-*- this theatre, who had caught the first part only 
of the title which announces the Lecture I am about 
to deliver, marvelling not a little, that your managers 
should have thought it worth their while to hxvite a 
professor from Oxford to indoctrinate the members 
of the Koyal Institution with respect to the ' Import- 
ance of Chemistry/ 

That arguments for such a purpose might be use- 
ful in the provinces, or even to an academic body 
occupied for the most part on the literature of past 
ages, would appear but natural ; but that any consi- 
derations of the kind should be pressed upon the 
attention of those, who are in the daily habit of 
watching the unfolding of those scientific truths, of 
which this Institution may be said to be the birth- 
[ 117 ] L 2 



DR. DAUBENY 



place^ might seem to them little better than an un- 
profitable waste of time. 

I must, therefore, begin by reminding you, that 
the subject of this Lecture is not the importance of 
chemistry, considered in itself, but only as it is an 
instrument of general education • and, in this point 
of view, it appears to me, that the very circumstance 
which may to some appear to render such a discus- 
sion here superfluous, imparts to it a peculiar pro- 
priety, when we regard the place in which it is de- 
livered, and the audience I am now addressing. 

Education, gentlemen, I need hardly say, is framed 
with reference to the requirements of the great mass 
of society, rather than of that small number of indi- 
viduals who are capable of rising to eminence. Genius 
under any circumstances, and despite of almost every 
amount of discouragement, will carve for itself a path 
to distinction : it grows up under the most dissimilar 
modes of mental culture ; and is capable of extracting 
nourishment, for its own development, from the 
hardest and most indigestible food. 

But it is for the sake of those not intended by 
nature as the pioneers of discovery, or as the origi- 
nators of new principles in science, that our systems 
of education are chiefly framed ; and such men would 
be rather deterred from the study than invited to it, 
by having put before them so frequently, as is the 
[ »«] 



OIST THE STUDY OF CHEMISTEY. 



case within this theatre, the results of those original 
and profound investigations which have signalized the 
march of modern chemistry. 

In consequence of having their attention rivetted 
upon points of scientific research, which are placed on 
heights to them inaccessible, they are the more likely 
to overlook the harvest that lay at their very feet, 
and which came within the compass of those powers 
and energies of mind, which fall to the common lot 
of mankind. 

It will therefore be my purpose to show, that even 
to those who do not feel within themselves the capa- 
city of originating new truths, or even of fully 
apprehending the higher problems with which this 
science has to grapple, chemistry is a study not 
only of lively interest, but also of great utility, with 
a view to attaining those objects which are aimed at 
in every complete and well - digested scheme of 
national education. 

And in employing the term, ' national education/ 
I mean to include in it that of the highest as well 
as of the humblest grade of society ; for although 
the difference is great indeed between the com- 
pleteness of the instruction provided, and consequently 
between the machinery employed, in these two cases, 
I can recognise no fundamental difference in the 
objects aimed at. 

[ "9] 



DR. DAUBENY 



Primary education, I conceive, independently of 
the reference it ought to have to the inculcation of 
right principles in religion and morality, objects, 
which, although the most important of any, do not fall 
within the scope of this lecture — has two distinct ends 
to accomplish : namely, first, that of disciplining and 
developing the several powers of the mind; and, 
secondly, that of imparting to it certain kinds of 
useful general information. 

Although some have insisted exclusively upon the 
former, whilst others have attached the greatest 
weight to the latter of these objects, it is certain that 
they can neither be disjoined in practice, nor ought 
to be separated in theory, by any judicious system 
of education. With the exception perhaps of logic 
and pure mathematics, there are none of the sciences, 
which do not at once supply materials for thought 
and reflection, as well as improve the faculty of ap- 
prehending and comparing them ; nor, on the other 
hand, would it be easy to pitch upon any species of 
knowledge worthy of a place in a system of liberal 
instruction, which does not also, to a certain extent, 
exercise and discipline the understanding. 

This, however, supplies no reason why we should 
not keep distinct in theory the two ends above men- 
tioned, and consider separately the best means by which 
each may be attained — and first, then, beginning 
[ I2 ° ] 



ON THE STUDY OP CHEMISTRY. 



with that which we regard as the more important 
of the two, let us consider what kind of education is 
likely to operate most effectually in disciplining and 
developing the mental organisation. 

The intellectual principle in man is in its early state 
scarcely to be distinguished from the instinct of brutes, 
and is in some respects inferior to it ; but it yet con- 
tains within itself the capacity of reasoning, of imagi- 
nation, of taste, of tracing resemblances, and thus of 
classifying the objects presented before it — the germs, 
in short, of all the powers and endowments which we 
find afterwards unfolded. In whatever degree these 
gifts may in each instance be apportioned, it is hardly 
possible to conceive a rational being totally destitute 
of any one of them ; incapable, that is, either of 
deducing inferences from the facts before him, of 
combining the images presented to his mind by the 
senses into new forms, of being pleasurably affected 
by certain arrangements of ideas more than by others, 
or of placing together individual facts in some sort of 
order or method. 

Now, it is the primary object of education to im- 
part to each of these faculties its proper development^ 
and no system which overlooks any one of them can 
be regarded as complete. Any method which should 
mature the judgment, without calling into play the 
inventive faculty; or which cultivated the taste, to the 

[ «« 1 



DR. DAUBENY 



neglect of the other powers of classifying, combining, 
or reasoning upon the objects brought before the 
mind, must be condemned as defective. 

Now it will be my endeavour to show, that the 
study of chemistry is conducive to more than one of 
the great ends above pointed out as the general aim of 
Education. 

It has been objected to, indeed, that its principles 
are as yet not sufficiently defined, or susceptible of that 
degree of mathematical precision, which befits them 
for the purpose of training the powers of reasoning. 

Nor would I by any means desire, that by those 
who have the leisure and ability to pursue to any ex- 
tent the study of mathematics, chemistry should be 
admitted as a substitute. 

Whilst, however, there are many in every class 
of society, even, indeed, in the highest, upon 
whose minds abstract propositions scarcely take any 
hold ; there are probably none who would not reap 
advantage, from having their attention directed to a 
class of subjects, upon which the premises are pre- 
sented to them in a more palpable form, and the con- 
clusions to be deduced are of that contingent cha- 
racter, which bear a nearer analogy to those relating 
to the ordinary events of man's life. 

But the cultivation of the reasoning powers con- 
stitutes only a part, and even the smallest part, of the 
[ I22 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



services rendered by chemistry in the cultivation of 
the intellect. No one of the physical sciences, 
perhaps, is equally well calculated to promote habits 
of close observation; a rigorous attention to all the 
peculiarities of each phenomenon; that aptitude in 
forming new combinations out of the impressions 
received from without, which constitutes imagination, 
and gives birth to invention ; and that power of de- 
tecting similitudes and differences, which enables the 
mind to arrange and classify in some sort of order 
the diversified objects presented to it. 

Nor is this so common an endowment as might 
be at first supposed. ' One man/ says Mr. Mill, 
e from inattention, or attending only in the wrong 
place, overlooks half of what he sees; another sets 
down much more than he sees, confounding it with 
what he imagines, or with what he infers ; another 
takes note of the kind of all the circumstances, but 
being inexpert in estimating their degree, leaves the 
quantity of each vague and uncertain; another sees, 
indeed, the whole, but makes such an awkward divi- 
sion of it into parts, throwing things into one mass 
which requires to be separated, and separating others 
which might more conveniently be considered as one, 
that the result is much the same, sometimes even 
worse, than if no analysis had been attempted at all. 

' To point out what qualities of mind, or modes of 
[ I2 3 ] 



BR. DAUBEXr 



mental culture fit a man for being a good observer, is 
a question which belongs to the theory of education. 
There are rules of self-culture which render us 
capable of observing, as there are arts for strengthen- 
ing the limbs.'* 

In ascribing to the study of this science all these 
several advantages, I am not of course considering it 
as if it were to be prosecuted exclusively from books, 
or consisted in the mere committal to memory of a 
certain number of facts and principles. The student 
who embarks with any degree of zeal or ardour in 
this branch of philosophy is almost irresistibly led on 
from theory to experiment, and becomes impelled by 
mere curiosity, if not by some higher motive, to ob- 
serve with his own eyes, and to verify by his own senses, 
those properties of matter, which verbal description 
can, after all, only faintly and imperfectly delineate. 

Once entered upon this line of pursuit, he engages 
in it with something of the same zest which the sports- 
man entertains in tracking his game — he soon begins to 
experience a personal pride in the success of his trials, 
and feels himself humbled in his own estimation, if 
they should chance to disappoint his anticipations. 

There is also always enough of uncertainty with 
respect to the success of an experiment, especially in 

* Mill's Logic, vol. i. p. 438. 
[ I2 4 ] 



OjST THE STUDY OP CHEMISTRY. 



unpractised hands, to keep awake his attention, and 
to bring the subject, as respects himself, under the 
category of contingent events. 

Every chemist, indeed, soon becomes aware on 
how many minute and apparently unimportant points 
the success of any of his processes depends, and how 
much incidental knowledge of other bodies, besides 
those upon which he is operating, becomes requisite, 
in order to guard against defeat. 

The student, also, after following for some time 
in the footsteps of others, and satisfying himself by 
ocular proof of the facts which first attracted his 
curiosity, is led on to question Nature himself for 
further information, and to engage in independent 
lines of research, which will, to a certain extent at 
least, partake of the character of originality. 

And here the inventive faculty is at once disci- 
plined and excited; for whilst his imagination is 
checked in its random nights by the penalty of failure 
imposed upon unsound and visionary speculation, his 
power of combining into new arrangements the ideas 
presented to his mind is promoted, by the necessity 
of contriving new processes, and of meditating upon 
what is likely to occur under another set of conditions. 

Illustrations of this will occur during every attempt 
at analysis, during the examination of every new 
substance submitted to the chemist. 
[ -5 1 



DR. DAUBENY 



In each case the solution of the problem can only 
be arrived at by a number of tentative efforts, each 
of which requires, on the part of the operator, the 
exercise of invention, of memory, and of judgment. 

Simple as the principle elicited may appear to be, 
when the key to its solution has been found, often, 
indeed, the more simple, in proportion to the elevated 
rank it holds amongst the truths of the science, the 
discoverer alone knows through how many devious 
paths of error the clue to its attainment had to be 
followed, and how much his own intellectual vigour 
was, in the meantime, promoted by the pursuit. 

Let me remind you, for instance, of that important 
yet simple law which established the connexion be- 
tween electrical attraction and chemical affinity, the 
investigation of which led the illustrious individual 
who first gave celebrity to this institution to some 
of the greatest discoveries of modern chemistry. 

We are at present so familiarized with the fact 
that water is resolved by voltaic electricity into oxygen 
and hydrogen gases alone, as to be scarcely able to 
estimate the difficulties that beset the earlier experi- 
mentalists, or to account for the number of conflicting 
hypotheses suggested for a phenomenon now consi- 
dered as so simple. 

Nevertheless, when Davy first turned his attention 
[ "6] 



ON THE STUDY OP CHEMISTKY. 



to the subject, the constant association of acid with 
the oxygen, and of alkali, and even lime, with the 
hydrogen of the water decomposed, complicated 
the phenomenon in such a manner, that it was diffi- 
cult to arrive at any satisfactory explanation of it. 

It required, perhaps, no particular sagacity to con- 
jecture that these foreign ingredients might be derived 
from the vessels, or other bodies, in contact with the 
electrolised water, but the difficulty consisted in 
demonstrating that such was the case. Davy was 
soon led by this suspicion to discontinue the use of 
vegetable or animal substances for connecting the 
poles, finding that all such materials yielded, by their 
decomposition, muriatic acid ; and, for the same reason, 
he also abandoned glass vessels, as yielding soda. 

By substituting, therefore, agate for glass, and fibres 
of pure amianthus for cotton, he had reason to flatter 
himself that every source of fallacy had been removed • 
but to his surprise, muriatic acid still made its appear- 
ance at the positive pole, and soda at the negative. 

Here a fanciful or an indolent operator might 
have been tempted to stop ; for at that period it was 
regarded by no means so self-evident as it may appear 
to us at present, that such bodies as alkalies and acids 
might not be generated by an agent, of which so little 
was known, and from whose mysterious operation 
everything might be expected. 
[ 127 ] 



DR. DAUSEjSTY 



Davy, however, was not to be diverted from his 
inquiries by any such visionary speculations. By 
ascertaining that the quantity of saline matter dimi- 
nished when the experiments were again and again 
repeated, he felt justified in concluding that the 
agate must have yielded it. Still however a constant, 
although a smaller quantity of alkali was generated 
in each experiment ; and to determine its source, 
cups of pure gold were substituted for those of agate. 
Yet, even then, the same alkali was obtained, and as 
the only other conceivable source was the water, this, 
though it had been already carefully distilled, was 
submitted to analysis, and found to contain in the 
quart seven-tenths of a grain of saline matter. 

Davy now fancied that he should cut off every 
remaining source of error by re-distilling the water in 
silver vessels, with the most scrupulous care. The water 
was thus obtained in a state of absolute purity, but 
still the alkali, although diminished in quantity, did 
not altogether disappear when the water was elec- 
trolised. Upon a more critical examination, however, 
it turned out that the alkali thus generated was no 
longer soda, but ammonia. 

It thus appeared, that even when every apparent 

means of impurity had been removed, alkaline matter 

was evolved during the electrolisation of water ; and 

the same conclusion seemed deducible with respect 

[ "8 ] 



ON THE STUDY OP CHEMISTRY. 



to the other extraneous product, which, however, now 
that all vegetable matter had been excluded, was found 
to consist, not as before of muriatic, but of nitric acid. 

It then occurred to Davy's sagacious mind, that 
both these products might have arisen from the affi- 
nity of the nitrogen of the surrounding air, for the 
oxygen of the water on the one hand, and for its 
hydrogen on the other. 

He therefore next performed the experiment under 
an exhausted receiver, employing for the purpose of 
electrolisation water deprived of air by careful boil- 
ing. His method succeeded at least in cutting off the 
supply of ammonia, and thus satisfied him that he had 
hit upon the real cause of its previous occurrence. 

But a difficulty still remained to be got over; 
for even under these circumstances nitric acid con- 
tinued to be present, although in much smaller 
quantities than before. 

The crowning experiment therefore had still to 
be achieved ; the receiver under which the voltaic 
action was to take place, after being exhausted, was 
carefully filled with hydrogen, and then a second time 
exhausted, so as to secure the entire exclusion of 
atmospheric air. 

When this final step was taken, the operator had 
at length the satisfaction of finding, that all sources of 
fallacy were removed, neither acid nor alkali being 
[ I2 9 ] 



DE. DAUBENY 



generated^ even when the voltaic process had been 
continued during twenty-four hours ; thus justifying 
him in laying down, as now beyond the reach of 
doubt, that nothing but hydrogen and oxygen is 
produced by the decomposition of pure water. 

I have been the more disposed to dwell upon this 
particular train of research, because it seems to me 
to place the philosophical character of Sir Humphry 
Davy under rather a different aspect than that in 
which superficial observers are wont to regard it : 
exhibiting him, not as the individual who by the 
sudden inspiration of his genius lighted at once upon 
those brilliant discoveries which changed the face of 
the science ; but as one "who, by a long and laborious 
train of research, succeeded in realising the vision 
which his sagacious intellect had, in the first instance, 
dimly conceived. 

If we regard, as the two most important services 
rendered by this great philosopher to his favourite 
science, the discovery of the alkaline and earthy Bases, 
and the correction of our views with respect to the 
nature of Chlorine — the former as being his greatest 
contribution to the facts of chemistry, the latter to 
its logic — we shall find, that in both instances the 
results were arrived at by much patient inquiry, many 
minute and apparently trivial manipulations, and a 

[ '30 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



tenacity of purpose not to be turned aside by the 
difficulties which everywhere beset his path. 

And it is well for the student thus to obtain a timely 
warning, that such is the general case with genius, 
not merely when occupied in the walks of science, but 
also in every other branch of mental exertion — exem- 
plified equally in a Davy, and a Liebig, as in a Fox, 
and a Sheridan ; for that, by the same law which is 
found to prevail over the physical organization of 
man's nature, although we may digest, assimilate, 
and combine, with different degrees of facility, the 
materials placed within our reach, we cannot, in a 
strict sense create them ; and, accordingly, that no 
intellect, however vigorous — no imagination, however 
prolific — can operate to any good purpose, unless it 
has drawn largely from the intellectual stores of 
others, as well as from those accumulated by its own 
experience and observation. 

It is thus that the majestic Aloe, which pushes forth 
innumerable blossoms in a single day, has had the 
materials which enabled it to achieve so astonishing 
an effort stored up within its cells by a long-continued 
process of assimilation, in readiness on the first 
favourable opportunity to become rapidly developed 
into an exuberance of flowers and of fruit. 

The establishment of the doctrine of atoms affords 
[ 131 ] M 



DR. DAUBENY 



another striking instance of a number of minute, 
trivial, and apparently only technical investigations 
concurring to build up a theory which, as Sir John 
Herschel has truly said, is perhaps, after the laws of 
mechanics, the most important which the study of 
human nature has yet disclosed — a truth, indeed, 
which had occupied the minds of the first philosophers 
of antiquity, but which it was reserved for the experi- 
mentalists of the present age fully to substantiate. 

Depending as it does on questions involving chiefly 
minute differences in weight and volume, it might 
seem at first sight to owe more to the skill of the 
balance-maker, and to the eye and hand of the ope- 
rator, than to the sagacity which availed itself of the 
one, and which directed the other ; but those who 
take this low view of the matter should be reminded, 
that the father of the atomic theory himself was 
by no means famous for skill in manipulating, but 
derived most of his success from his penetration in 
interpreting, and in combining together the facts of 
others. 

This association of minute details, with grand 
generalisations, will serve to show that Chemistry 
wields a weapon, like the trunk of the elephant, which 
can pick up a needle and uproot an oak ; or may be 
compared to the Genie of the Eastern fable, who, 
although rather a dangerous and unruly servant 
[ 'a* ] 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



when directed by rash or ignorant masters, would 
stoop to the homeliest, and accomplish the most 
stupendous labours, when brought under the domi- 
nion of the Lamp. 

Nor, indeed, is Chemistry without its region of 
romance, even now that it .has emancipated itself 
from the fictions of the Alchemist, and from the 
mysticism of the Hosicrusian philosophy. 

The Philosopher who, by the aid of his crucible 
and his balance, can thus obtain glimpses of the ulti- 
mate constitution of matter — who can pronounce with 
so much confidence on the relative weight and volume 
of corpuscles too minute, not only to be recognised 
by the senses, but even to be conceived by the ima- 
gination — who can render it probable that many 
substances which defy our powers of analysis, are 
nevertheless compounds, and have been made to 
reveal their elements to a subtler alchemy than 
that of actual experiment — invests his subject, I 
conceive, in some degree, with the same attributes 
of grandeur and sublimity which we associate with 
the contemplation of the great works of external 
nature. 

Let me remind you, for instance, of the specula- 
tions which are naturally suggested by considering 
the mutual convertibility of the several imponderable 
[ 133 ] M 2 



DR. DAUBENY 



agents, light, heat, electricity, magnetism ; and by 
the relation of them all to mechanical force.* 

Let me bring before you those suggestions of my 
late friend Dr. Prout, as to the probability of all 
elementary bodies being exact multiples of hydrogen, 
to the realisation of which idea we seem to be brought 
nearer by every year's additional experience. f 

And let me, by reference to the Table suspended 
in the room, J point out to you the still further rela- 
tion which can be traced between the numbers 
representing the atomic weights of several of these 
elements — relations which, as some of you may recol- 
lect, induced Mons. Dumas, at the Ipswich meeting 
of the British Association, two years ago, to place 
certain of them in groups, each consisting of three 
members, and to conjecture that one of each triad 
might be a compound of the other two. 

This, however, as has been pointed out in an in- 
genious paper by a young American chemist, § from 

* See Mr. Grove's Pamphlet on The Correlation of Physical Forces. 

•j" It lias been suggested in the paper of the American chemist re- 
ferred to just below, that the deviations from this rule, which still 
appear to exist in certain elements, may not always arise from error in 
experiment (although this is in most cases a sufficiently plausible expla- 
nation), but may hereafter be found to be a secondary result of the very 
cause which has determined the distribution of the atomic weights ac- 
cording to a numerical law, just as the perturbations in astronomy are a 
necessary consequence of the very law they seemed at first to invalidate. 

X See Table 1. Of the Relations between certain Elementary Bodies. 

§ Mr. Cooke, Professor of Chemistry at Harvard College, in 
Cambridge, U.S. 

[ '34 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



"whom I have borrowed the Table just referred to, may 
probably be considered as an imperfect and partial 
view of the subject; and, it must be confessed, that 
in the existing state of our knowledge many hypo- 
theses might be framed, all quite as plausible as that 
of the French philosopher.* 

Nevertheless, it can hardly be denied, after inspect- 
ing the above Table, that there are really some 
remarkable relations between the atomic weights of 
those elements which are most nearly connected with 
each other by the circumstances of homology and of 
isomorphism, that is, by the similar proportions in 
which they respectively combine with other bodies, and 
by the similar crystallization of the resulting products. 

These relations, indeed, admit of being expressed 
algebraically, in the case, at least, of some groups 
which have been most thoroughly investigated, just 
as may be done with reference to organic compounds, 
as may be seen by the Table of the Fatty Acids, f 
which is placed by the side of the one before re- 
ferred to. 

* I cannot, however, admit the soundness of Mr. Cooke's sug- 
gestion, that the atoms of the nine series are formed of an atom of 
oxygen as a nucleus, with the addition of one or more groups of 
atoms, each weighing nine, to which the corresponding element has 
not yet been discovered ! We know that cyanogen, one of the series, 
is not so formed, for it is a compound of N 1 C 2, and as such, has 
been excluded from the list of bodies belonging to the nine series, 
although its atomic weight is 8 + n = 2, 

f See Table II. 

[ '35 ] 



DR. DAUBEXY 



Hence there would seem in this respect to be an 
analogy between the simple radicals of inorganic 
bodies and the compound ones which are recognised 
as existing in Organic Chemistry, each member of the 
latter group being formed by the addition of C 2 H 2 , 
or a multiple of the same, to the atoms composing 
the lowest member in the series, namely, formic acid. 

We may also detect in both instances a similar 
increase in density in proportion to the increase of 
atomic weight. Thus, in the former class of bodies, 
if we take the series of nines, oxygen is gaseous at all 
known temperatures and pressures ; chlorine becomes 
liquid under four atmospheres ; bromine is a volatile 
liquid at common temperatures; iodine, whose atomic 
weight is highest, exists as an easily volatilizable solid. 

And in like manner, in the latter class of bodies, 
we find a transition from formic acid and methylic 
alcohol, substances of great volatility and low atomic 
weight, to the fatty acids, and to ethal, which are 
dense solids. 

These generalisations, indeed, must not be allowed 
to warp our experimental conclusions ; but they are 
eminently suggestive, and may be looked upon as ex- 
amples of what may be termed the poetry of science, 
which is not without its use amongst the means of 
education, if only, like other poetry, it serves to 
impart a livelier conception of the beauty and har- 
[ i36 ] 



OX THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



niony of creation, by affording experimental proof of 
that which the earliest sages of antiquity regarded as 
intrinsically probable, namely, that God had ' ordered 
all things in measure, number, and weight.' 

iravra perpo) Kai apiO/tXu} Kai (rraOpo) cura^ag. 

The study of Chemistry seems to me also pecu- 
liarly adapted to initiate the youthful mind in the 
office of tracing the natural affinities betwixt bodies, 
and thus to induce methodical and systematic views 
of that subordination of properties which is the basis 
of all classification. 

This is a service not to be rendered by the mathe- 
matical sciences, which proceed upon exact defini- 
tions, and habituate the mind to reject whatever does 
not come within the scope of rigorous deduction. 
For the relations between natural objects are based, 
not upon mutual identity, but upon degrees of re- 
semblance ; and the characters of each of them pass 
by such imperceptible gradations into the next in 
the series, that every classification must, to a certain 
extent, be considered arbitrary, inasmuch as the 
limits of the divisions recognised can never be strictly 
defined. 

Thus the class of metals graduates into that of 
the simple combustibles through the intervening links 
of sulphur and selenium; the acids into the bases 
[ '37 1 



DR. DAUBENY 



through alumina; the supporters of combustion into 
the combustibles through sulphur and phosphorus ; 
the electrics into conductors through the fibre of the 
nerves and muscles of animals. 

The study of organic types, introduced by Dumas, 
and extended by Laurent and Gerhardt, may also 
initiate the mind in the idea which serves as a key 
to all the arrangements in the natural sciences — an 
idea which will be equally serviceable in grouping 
together the facts concerning our moral nature and 
the ordinary transactions of life, namely, that of 
adopting for our classification of bodies some cha- 
racter of primary importance, whilst we neglect those 
minor differences which must ever exist between one 
individual object and another. 

Chemistry also appears to be calculated to afford 
usefid lessons in the art of nomenclature. 

In no other of the sciences has so perfect a speci- 
men of this kind been exhibited as by Guyton 
Morveau, in his adaptation of the names of chemical 
substances to the theory of Lavoisier; and although 
the newer views entertained with respect to the nature 
of the combinations then recognised may have ren- 
dered some part of this nomenclature inappropriate, 
yet its original merits may be estimated by the fact, 
that no modifications in it have been proposed except 
what were forced upon us by changes in theory, and 
[ 138] 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



that the principal attempts at nomenclature since 
made, have been rather extensions of the rules laid 
down in this scheme, than a substitution of any new 
principle for the one which had served for their basis.* 

But it is time to hasten on to the second branch 
of my subject — namely, the propriety of making 
Chemistry a part of that kind of primary instruction 
which aims at imparting a certain amount of general 
information to the youthful mind. 

The crude notions so currently entertained with 
respect to what is called General Knowledge have 
created a prejudice against this Department of Educa- 
tion, which has induced many to contend that the 
sole aim of the latter is to train and develop the 
powers of the understanding. 

* I would not. defend the practice of affixing to simple substances 
names founded upon theoretical considerations, but conceive that, 
in the case of eompound ones, it was a great gain to science, when 
Lavoisier substituted for the arbitrary designations then in use, words 
which at least indicated those ingredients by the union of which the 
bodies in question were commonly prepared. That oil of vitriol is 
obtained by combining sulphur with oxygen, and Glauber salt by 
bringing together sulphuric acid and soda, are facts sufficient to jus- 
tify the names of sulphuric acid and of sulphate of soda assigned to 
these bodies ; and their truth remains as before, whether we regard 
them with Lavoisier, respectively SO 3 + H 0, and S O 3 + Na ; 
or S0 4+H, and SO 4 + Na, as the Binary Theory represents 
them. Nor would the facts be altered, even if the latter view of the 
constitution of salts, which is now in favour, were hereafter to be 
superseded by some other more plausible hypothesis. 

[ *39 ] 



DR. DAUBEXY 



Nevertheless, although nothing can be more ab- 
surd than to encumber the youthful mind with a heap 
of heterogeneous facts, without connexion one with 
the other, without interest to the pupil, and without 
any reference to his peculiar genius or future des- 
tination ; yet it cannot be doubted, that the period 
set apart for education is the one best fitted for storing 
up in the mind materials for thought, as well as 
those genera] principles and laws of the moral and 
physical world which are likely to be called into 
requisition in the course of his future life. 

This, indeed, is acknowledged to be the case with 
reference to what concerns man as an individual and 
as a member of society; on which accounts the events 
of history, the laws and constitution of our own 
country, and the principles of the philosophy of the 
human mind, hold a prominent part in every system 
of education. 

But is it not also important, whatever our pupil's 
destination may be, that he should not leave us in 
entire ignorance of the laws and constitution of the 
objects that surround him — his companions from the 
cradle to the grave — bodies with which he will be 
brought into contact, as agents of good or of evil, at 
every moment of his existence ? 

And if the vast extent of the field thus opened be 
pleaded as a reason for limiting the student's range 
[ J 4° ] 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



to particular branches of physical inquiry, those 
sciences, which lie at the root of all our knowledge 
of the material world, and without some insight into 
which our acquaintance with individual facts must 
be merely empirical, unquestionably deserve the pre- 
ference. 

Now, if we classify the different departments of 
Natural Science, as I have done in the Table sus- 
pended in the room,* it will be manifest, that the 
more fundamental ones, occupying the first division 
in the scheme submitted, will be those which comprise 
a knowledge of — 



* NATURAL SCIENCE INCLUDES, AS PRIMART, OR FUNDAMENTAL 
BRANCHES, A KNOWLEDGE OP 

t Celestial 
The properties common to all matter — Physics . . • } ^ t •' 1 

The properties distinctive of Bodies in general — ■ ( Inorganic. 

Chemistry . . j Organic. 

The properties distinctive of living Bodies in particular j Vegetable. 

— Physiology j Animal. 

AS SPECIAL OR SUBORDINATE BRANCHES, THE NATURAL HISTORY OF 

( Of the Atmosphere . . Meteorology. 
Inorganic bodies, viz., \ Of the Earth and its con- 

i. tents Mineralogy. 

Lithology. 
Geological Dy- 
namics. 
Palaeontology. 

( Of Vegetables \ s y stematic Botan y- 

A • -L j- ) ° } Organography. 

[ H. ] 



DR. DAUBENY 



I. the general laws common to all matter what- 
soever. 

sndly. the special properties and relations of those 
bodies, which are either most familiar to us, most 
useful, or most generally diffused throughout nature, 
so far as they are not influenced by vital forces. 

31'dly. the general laws which govern life, both as 
it exists in the animal and in the vegetable kingdom. 

Of these, the first named is termed mechanical 
philosophy, or physics ; the second is included under 
chemistry ; the third under general physiology.* 

With regard to those other departments of natural 
science, which often enter, to a certain extent, into a 
scheme of popular education, it may be remarked, 
that in so far as they are parts, not of natural history, 
but of philosophy, they are to be regarded simply as 
expansions of, or as deductions from, one or other of 
the primary ones before cited ; and therefore cannot 
be acquired, except as mere aggregates of undigested 
facts, until a knowledge of some one at least of the 
above fundamental sciences has been attained. 

Thus let us take the case of geology, and suppose 
our pupil, just emancipated from school or college, to 



* See this explained in a pamphlet of mine, entitled, Brief Re- 
marks on the Correlation of the Natural Sciences. Oxford : Vincent, 
1848. 



[ -4«] 



ON THE STUDY OP CHEMISTRY. 



find himself at the foot of a volcano, and to witness 
some of the more striking manifestations of subter- 
ranean energy there exhibited. Sublime and impres- 
sive as the spectacle may be, how entirely will he be 
in the dark, not only as to the cause of the movement, 
but even as to the nature of the phenomena which he 
witnesses, if unaided by chemistry. What will he 
know of the constitution of the substances ejected, of 
the gases and vapours evolved, or of the condition of 
the surface overspread by these volcanic materials, 
•which is sometimes so favourable, at other times so 
unpropitious to vegetation ? 

With how much more abiding an interest will he 
contemplate the phenomena, when he views them in 
connexion with any chemical hypothesis, which, how- 
ever conjectural, as every hypothesis must be which 
relates to processes going on so far beyond the limits 
of human observation, professes at least to account 
for the particular events that come before him, as 
well as for the order of their sequence. 

Or let him turn his steps to a country where ex- 
tensive rocks are forming, not by igneous forces, but 
by slow deposition from water, as in the Travertine 
of Italy, of which the most celebrated temples of 
Rome, as well as those of Psestum, are constructed. 
How much greater interest will he feel in them, when, 
by the lights of chemistry, he traces the action which 

['43 ] 



DR. DAUBEISTY 



had brought about their deposition, the relation which 
they bear to stratified rocks of older formation, and the 
probable source of the carbonic acid which communi- 
cated its solvent pow r er to the w r aters of the district. 

Or suppose him to direct his attention to those 
branches of natural history wdiich relate to living 
beings, and to concern himself, not merely in the 
external forms of animals or plants, but also in their 
structure and functions. 

Such inquiries will make him acquainted with the 
law of Endosmose, which, as the physiologist will in- 
form him, is seen in operation during every process 
of secretion and excretion which takes place in the 
animal or vegetable kingdom, but which the chemist 
will trace to the still more widely operating law of 
Diffusion, which is seen alike in gases and in liquids, 
in organic and in inorganic bodies, as the late researches 
of Liebig and of Graham have explained to us. 

Or if the occurrence of one of those epidemics, 
which have of late years been so frequent, should call 
his attention to the laws of contagion, even here the 
most philosophical explanation of the spread of the 
disease may be afforded him by the suggestions of a 
chemist, who has traced a very close analogy between 
the propagation of miasmata in the animal organism, 
and the transmission of the fermentative process in 
fluids susceptible of change from one to the other; 
[ J 44 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



referring both to a law common alike to living and to 
dead matter, which renders any motion set up in one 
compound liable to extend itself to others, whose parti- 
cles are in a similar condition of unstable equilibrium. 

It will be seen that I have drawn my examples 
from subjects which at first sight appear to be as far 
removed as possible from the jurisdiction of Chemistry, 
for it seemed to me needless to remind the audience 
I am addressing, that a Science which embraces under 
its consideration all those properties which are not 
either common to all bodies whatsoever, or, on the 
other hand, attributable to the agency of the vital 
principle, must be indispensable to the due under- 
standing — of the processes of the manufactures — of 
the operations of agriculture — of all the changes, in 
short, in the material world, which take place through 
the instrumentality either of art or of nature. 

I need not, therefore, detain you with discussing 
a truth so self-evident; but will proceed to consider 
how far the study of this science can, without un- 
duly displacing others, be made to constitute a part 
of the education of the different classes of society. 

And first, with respect to that of the lower orders — 
upon which, however, I should hardly venture to pro- 
nounce, if I were not backed by the authority of 
[ <45 ] 



DR. DAUBEXY 



others, who have made this subject their particular 
study, and especially the Dean of Hereford, whose 
diligence and success in organising schemes of secular 
education for the people are now fully appreciated. 
There are many subjects upon which a knowledge of 
a few elementary facts in Chemistry will not only 
supply food for the mind, but also convey useful prac- 
tical hints to the labouring population of our towns 
and villages. 

I may mention amongst the rest, economy with 
regard to the selection of food, and its preparation 
for human subsistence by the modes of cooking in 
common use — provisions for the better ventilation of 
cottages, and for their sanitary condition generally — 
instruction with respect to handicraft work and various 
mechanical occupations — information with respect to 
the different qualities of water, and its relative fitness 
for washing and drinking purposes. 

The Dean has pointed out, with how very simple 
and inexpensive an apparatus the village schoolmaster 
may demonstrate some of the leading truths which 
illustrate these several heads of information, and thus 
impress them more vividly upon the minds of his 
pupils than could be done by mere oral instruction. 

If from the lowest class of society we pass on to 
those higher in the scale, who are designed for various 
[ H6 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



trades and manufactures, for the pursuits of agricul- 
ture, or for the inferior grades in the professions of 
law and medicine; we shall see reasons for recommend- 
ing to them the study of chemistry, both as a disci- 
pline for the mind, and also as the basis of much 
useful and practical knowledge. 

In their case, the necessity of commencing at an 
early age the active business of life, precludes the pos- 
sibility of entering deeply into the mathematics, and 
therefore renders it more important, that the gap 
should be supplied by the study of a science, which 
may, to a certain extent, supply its place, by training 
and developing the mental faculties. 

The pupil, if agriculture is to be his future calling, 
will learn from chemistry how to economise his 
manures ; how to bring the land in a condition to 
impart its latent resources to the crop ; how to supply 
what is necessary for the growth of the plant he cul- 
tivates. 

Without superseding the necessity of experience, 
or of that vigilant survey of his farming operations, 
which of all requisites is the one most essential to 
success, science will be valuable both in suggesting 
new modes of culture, and in enlightening him as 
to the causes of failure, when the ordinary system 
of operations has chanced to disappoint his ex- 
pectations. 

[ 147 ] N 



DR. DAUBENY 



We have heard, indeed, of cases, where, after the 
scientific man has corrected the practical, the result 
has proved the latter to have been in the right ; but 
in those instances it has generally turned out upon 
inquiry, that the error was to be attributed to the 
imperfection of our knowledge, and that the correction 
must be applied by a more complete scientific inves- 
tigation of the subject. 

Thus, the chemist has often reprobated the practice 
adopted in some of the western counties of adding 
quick lime to manure-heaps, as tending to dissipate 
the ammonia disengaged before it could influence 
the crop. Lately, however, we have been reminded, 
that nitric acid, as well as ammonia, is produced 
during the process of animal putrefaction, and that 
the former, instead of being dissipated, would be only 
more effectually fixed by the application of an alka- 
line earth to the substances containing it. 

The practice, therefore, is not so improper as it 
had appeared from theory to be ; but the practical man 
should nevertheless be reminded, that the aid of 
chemistry is required to enlighten him under what 
conditions the first or the second of these products 
is elicited,* so that he may learn when lime may 
be added with advantage, and when with loss, 

Probably indeed, in the west-country practice 

* See Kuhlman's Papers on the production of Nitre. 
[ 148 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



alluded to, the addition of an absorbing substance 
to the manure-heap may serve to counteract the bad 
effects of the quick lime, even where ammonia is the 
principal product ; but the farmer, who should imitate 
this practice without understanding the conditions 
upon which its success depends, would be very likely 
to omit these accessories, and thus to bring about an 
opposite result. 

With regard to the applications of Chemistry to 
the useful arts, the instances of it are so numerous 
and so familiar to all, that it seems needless to insist 
upon the advantages of its study to all who are 
destined for such employments ; and it is equally 
clear, that, for those who intend to make the healing 
art, in any of its branches, their future profession, 
a more than superficial knowledge of it is all but 
indispensable. 

I proceed, then, to consider, how far Chemistry 
deserves a place in that more complete system of 
education which is designed for the learned Professions, 
as well as for the higher Orders of Society in general. 
My recommending it as a fit study for the middling 
and the lower Classes, would alone render it impera- 
tive upon me to impose it upon the upper — for under 
the circumstances of the present age, and in this 
country more especially, the maintenance of a superior 
[ H9 ] N 2 



DR. DAUBENY 



position, and of superior moral influence, involves the 
necessity of superior mental culture. 

The idea of imparting a special direction to the 
primary education of youth, in accordance with their 
respective rank or future destination, is not only in 
itself unphilosophical, but also in manifest contra- 
diction* to the principle which has always guided us 
in our schools and colleges — namely, that of exacting 
from all for whom a liberal education is designed, the 
same basis of classical and mathematical learning. 
And the adoption of an opposite principle, by the 
exclusion from the curriculum of any study which is 
admitted as an integral part of the training given to 
the people at large, must tend to the isolation of the 
class to which it is applied, and consequently weaken 
its connexion with those below it. 

In a Protestant community, for example, the legi- 
timate influence of the priest over the laity can only 
be duly maintained, by the ascendancy of his charac- 
ter, and by the extent of his information with re- 
spect to subjects on which the people with whom he 
mixes are able to estimate his superiority. 

By enlightening them on common matters, in 
which a little knowledge of Chemistry will afford 
them such material assistance, and thereby becoming 

* See Davison's Remarks on this subject, and Father Newman's 
Discourses on University Education, p. 241, et seq. 

[no] 



OX THE STUDY 0? CHEMISTRY. 



the instrument of enabling them to better their own 
condition, and to economise their means of living, he 
paves his way to their confidence on subjects more 
strictly appertaining to his sacred profession. 

There seems to me also to be a peculiar propriety 
in thus intercalating a somewhat fluctuating, though 
advancing science, like Chemistiy, in a course of 
education, the principal elements of which, such as 
the mathematics or the literature of past ages, are 
little susceptible of change. 

A study of this description familiarizes the pupil 
with the idea of progress ; it exercises a distinct set 
of faculties, just as a new gymnastic exercise calls 
into play a new set of muscles ; and it guards against 
that stagnation which is apt to supervene, when the 
mind is chiefly made the passive recipient of truths 
which rest upon authority. 

To those, indeed, who regard a knowledge of 
what other men have said and done the sole aim of 
education, the example of the Chinese may serve as 
an instructive warning. 

We here see a nation which has retrograded in 
the scale of civilisation, in consequence of having 
reposed entirely upon the wisdom of its ancestors ; of 
following implicitly those principles in the arts which 
had been handed down to it from an early period; 
[ "Si ] 



DE. DAUBEOT 



and of occupying its learned leisure chiefly in pon- 
dering over the intricacies of a language which it 
would seem to require the labour of a life fully to 
master. 

It must indeed be confessed, in justice to this 
people, that they had a better excuse for their 
tenacity in adhering to their ancient paths, than 
other nations woidd be able to plead. Long before 
Europe had emerged from barbarism, China was 
in possession of the art of printing, of gun- 
powder, and of the mariner's compass — her popu- 
lation was clad in silks, a royal luxury even in the 
days of Queen Elizabeth — had perfected the manu- 
facture of porcelain — and had brought agriculture and 
many of the industrial arts to a high pitch of perfec- 
tion. Her vast empire enjoyed a patriarchal govern- 
ment ; an aristocracy founded only upon the en- 
lightened principle of intellectual superiority, tested 
by public competition ; a complete system of internal 
communication by roads and canals ; and a code of 
laws, which, viewed even by the lights of the present 
day, is considered by good judges to savour through- 
out of practical sagacity and European good sense. 

Is it to be wondered at, that surrounded as she 

was with hordes of mere savages, and receiving no 

favourable report, if any, of nations more distant, 

China should have over-estimated both her material 

[ l 5 2 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



and her intellectual superiority, and should have 
imagined that in her palmy condition change was 
the only danger against which she had to guard ? 

And yet, after ten centuries of stagnation, what is 
the spectacle this nation presents to us ? a population 
at once effeminate and degraded, inferior to ourselves 
even in those industrial arts, on which they chiefly 
plume themselves, and incapable of adopting to any 
extent the inventions of other nations — a monied 
class sordid and sensual — and a body of Literati in- 
different to all abstract science, and curious only on 
points of information which promise some palpable 
and immediate end of utility. 

It is of course foreign from my intention to compare 
the philosophy of Confucius with that of Aristotle, 
or the literary productions of a Mongolian nation 
with those which emanated from the highest type of 
intellect which the human race probably has ever 
developed ; but the evil consequences I have pointed 
out seem to me to have arisen, not so much from 
the inferior character of the models held out for them 
to copy, as from their servile adherence to them. 

c Truth/ says Milton, f is compared in Scripture to 
a streaming fountain ; if her waters flow not in a per- 
petual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of 
conformity and tradition ;' and all experience will 
serve to show, that wherever due provision has not 
[ '53 ] 



DR. DAUBENT 



been made for advancement, the seeds of decay are 
sure to find admittance. 

Hence, if on the one hand it be useful to impress 
upon the mind a reverence for the great lights that 
have illumined the walks of learning in former periods 
of the world; it is not less desirable on the other that 
some of the studies pursued in early youth should have 
a tendency to encourage an independent search after 
Truth, and to induce the habit of interrogating nature 
as well as of leaning upon the traditions of men. 

With these sentiments, it may be supposed that I 
am not prepared to defend the system pursued in 
my own university till within the last two years, which 
consisted in merely securing the delivery of lectures 
on Chemistry for the sake of those who might desire, 
of their own accord, to improve themselves in that 
science, without holding out any encouragement to its 
prosecution, or treating the subject as though it were 
considered in any sense an integral part of our scheme 
of education. 

In these respects, however, Chemistry was at least 
in no worse position than other branches of physical 
science, or even than the history and philosophy of 
modern times, no one of which studies was insisted 
upon, or even promoted amongst us by academical 
distinctions or emoluments. 

The defenders of this exclusive system might, in- 
[ <54] 



01ST THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



deed, appeal to the long train of distinguished nien 
whom the university had sent forth, as a practical 
proof of its efficacy in refining and expanding the 
mental powers; and I am far from disputing the posi- 
tion, that, supposing the attention of youth required 
to be limited to one description of literature, the 
great writers of antiquity deserve in many respects a 
preference over those of later times. There is a 
simple grandeur, an absence of all affectation and 
straining after effect, a native vigour and freshness 
about the early Greek writers in particular, which 
seem better calculated to win the sympathies of 
youth, and to induce habits of just thinking and 
correct taste, than the more elaborate and recondite 
productions of men of modern days. 

The faults, as well as the beauties of these authors, 
are those of precocious youth • and if we were to 
suppose a Being of a superior order to man to appear 
upon our globe, although his matured intellect might 
strike out deeper truths, and teem with loftier imagi- 
nations, his earlier thoughts might be imagined to 
find their most appropriate expression in the lan- 
guage of Homer or of Herodotus. 

Nevertheless, the advocates of a purely classical 
education appear to have overlooked certain consi- 
derations which are not without weight in arriving 
at a right conclusion on such a subject. 
[ 155 ] 



DR. DAUBENY 



In the first place, as I have already remarked, it 
is desirable to train and develop the faculty, of 
minutely observing, of clearly apprehending, and of 
correctly classifying the objects that present them- 
selves ; talents which can be best fostered at an early 
period of life, and can in no way be more fully 
unfolded than by a course of chemical study. 

Secondly, the many urgent motives, of one kind 
or another, which force the student to plunge into 
active life immediately upon escaping from the tram- 
mels of the school or university, will often prevent his 
possessing any sound knowledge of physical science, 
if it be not made a part of his early education. 

Lastly, a very large proportion of mankind want 
the ability to obtain that proficiency in any of the 
branches of learning cultivated at our universities, 
which is requisite to enable them to reap from their 
study the advantages anticipated. 

In an Institution intended to educate the youths 
of the country generally, however high the qualifi- 
cation for distinction may be raised, a low standard 
of attainments can alone be insisted upon ; and yet 
it is notorious, that a large proportion of the youths 
who resort to a university, although they are capable 
of reaching the prescribed point with little mental 
exertion, never aspire to go beyond it. 

Nor is this indifference on their part to be ascribed, 
[ 156 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



primarily at least, to indolence of disposition, or to de- 
ficiency in ordinary intelligence; for these very persons 
in after life will often evince much power of applica- 
tion, and soundness of judgment, in the capacity of 
magistrates, of parochial clergymen, or even of mem- 
bers of the legislature. Their previous intellectual 
torpor, so far as all academical studies were concerned, 
arose, I am convinced, in a great degree, from their 
incapacity to grapple with the deeper philosophy 
of the ancient world, or to imbibe any keen relish 
for its orators, its poets, or its historians. 

If to this inaptitude for literary pursuits be con- 
joined an equal disinclination for abstract studies or 
for the higher branches of the mathematics, one can 
readily understand, that such youths should make but 
little progress beyond the point to which they had 
already advanced at school, and that the time spent 
at the university should have been chiefly wasted in 
field sports, or even more frivolous occupations. 

Now it is for men of this character of mind that 
the study of the experimental sciences is particularly 
valuable, because the very practical tendency of their 
minds, which, to a certain extent, prevents them from 
profiting so largely from the favourite studies of a uni- 
versity, is the very quality most likely to befit them 
for the observation of external nature, and is, more- 
over, most commonly accompanied with that tact 
[<57] 



BK. DAUBENY 



and sagacity which are most serviceable in its inter- 
pretation. 

Thus the recognition of Chemistry in a university 
like the one to which I belong, is little likely to 
detract unduly from the attention paid to the classical 
studies of the place; whilst its pursuit is only so much 
clear gain to the general stock of knowledge, as it would 
be chiefly confined, either to youths who are not likely 
to apply themselves with any vigour and success to lite- 
rary subjects; to those who have a peculiar genius and 
aptitude for physical investigations; or, lastly, to the 
few who have energy and capacity enough to embrace 
both literature and science within the circle of their 
studies. 

It was not, therefore, without good reason, that the 
University of Oxford, in the year 1849, determined 
that henceforward the physical sciences should be 
made the subjects of examination, and be held out to 
its students as reckoning amongst the qualifications, 
not only for a simple degree, but also for certain aca- 
demical distinctions. 

But something more than this will be required, if 
we would secure to these branches of study their 
proper place in such a body as our own. In order 
to afford effectual encouragement to any department 
of learning, substantial rewards are necessary, and 
fortunately the liberality of our founders and benefac- 
[ '58 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



tors has supplied us with meaus ample enough, if 
judiciously applied, to spread their fertilising influ- 
ence over every field of intellectual culture, instead 
of being limited, as at present, to a few. 

At any rate, as I have observed in another place,* 
no one can have a right to pronounce the atmosphere 
of Oxford uncongenial to the investigation of physical 
truth, until it has been ascertained what would be 
the result, supposing a certain proportion of our 
Fellowships were awarded as prizes for scientific ac- 
quirements \ and supposing, as wonld be the natural 
consequence, that the student who distinguished 
himself in this line were placed, in the estimation of 
his cotemporaries, on the same level as if he had 
bestowed a similar amount of mental exertion upon 
pursuits of a literary character. 

If this rule were adopted, there seems to me no 
reason why Oxford should not rank as high in phy- 
sical science as she has long done in other departments 
of human knowledge; for I, for one, cannot understand 
why the contemplation and study of nature should 
not be carried on at least as well within the retire- 
ment of an university, as amidst the noise and 
bustle of a crowded metropolis. 

* See a Pamphlet entitled, Can Physical Science find a Home in 
an English University ? Oxford: Vincent, 1854. 

[ *59 ] 



DR. DAUBENY 



It would rather seem, that for the prosecution of 
experiments requiring often considerable abstraction 
of mind, as well as long continued exertion; and pro- 
mising no immediate result, beyond the pleasure of 
arriving at a new truth, the pecuniary resources of 
our collegiate establishments, and the exemption they 
afford from the cares and distractions of ordinary life, 
supply the most ample facilities ; and that whilst the 
prospect of attaining a fellowship might attract 
students into this path of research, the possession of 
one would afterwards enable them to dedicate their 
lives to its prosecution. 

And this application of our academical funds is, I 
contend, entirely in harmony with an enlightened 
view of the objects for which they were designed ; 
for although the older universities of the realm were, 
doubtless, primarily intended, as those of later crea- 
tion are, for the purposes of education, they, from 
the very first, aimed at something beyond it. 

The entire tendency of the collegiate system — 
the foundation of fellowships — their tenure extending 
far beyond the period to which the education of their 
holders could be supposed to be prolonged, and in 
most cases, indeed, without any limitation as to the 
period of their retention — are circumstances, all of 
which imply, that the views of our Founders con- 
templated the creation of a permanent body of men 
[ 160 ] 



OjST the study of chemistry. 



devoted to the prosecution of literary and scientific 
objects, under the presiding influence of religion.* 

* Although the Bill now before Parliament for furthering the good 
government of the University and of the Colleges has in general 
my hearty concurrence, there are, nevertheless, two provisions in it 
which I cannot but consider as detrimental to the interests of Oxford, 
whether regarded in the light of a focus of literature, or as a nursery 
of education. 

I allude to the clause fixing a limit to the tenure of Fellowships, 
and to that rendering residence, except in a few particular cases, 
compulsory upon those who enjoy them. 

The former of these appears to be calculated to check the growth 
of a class of men, at present perhaps not very numerous, but which 
it is highly important to foster — those I mean who devote them- 
selves to literary and scientific occupations without any ulterior object 
in life ; nor can it fail to damp the exertions even of others who come 
to us for education, since it will deprive the academical emolu- 
ments, which are held out to them as the rewards of success, of a con- 
siderable portion of their value. 

It ought not to be overlooked, that a Fellowship is coveted less on 
account of its pecuniary amount, than for the security it affords, that 
its possessor may hold it on for any length of time, if his neces- 
sities or ill success in life should render it of importance for him to 
retain it. 

It thus serves as a guarantee to the disinterested and unambitious 
student, that he will be free to prosecute his favourite pursuits so long 
as he pleases, in comparative indifference as to their bearing upon 
the practical concerns of life, or on his own future advancement in 
it. And with respect to the abuses complained of at present in the 
tenure of Fellowships, I have sufficient faith in the working of the 
Bill to conceive, that when Colleges have the power of selecting 
candidates from the whole University, the cases will be few, where a 
Fellow shall linger on, as a burden to his Society, beyond the period 
which the interests of learning would justify ; and if this were to 
happen now and then, the evil would be small, compared to that of 
spreading abroad the feeling, that inasmuch as the provision made for 
study is henceforward to cease at the period of life when it may be 
most wanted, the application of any portion of the means supplied 

[ *, ] 



DR. DAUBENY 



There is, indeed, no other possible explanation of 
their motives, unless we were to adopt the monastic 

to obtain other than personal objects would be an act of impru- 
dence. 

On the other hand, the clause compelling residence strikes me as 
either unnecessary or injurious ; unnecessary when the Fellowships 
are properly bestowed, and of an injurious tendency when they are not. 
Supposing, for instance, the successful candidate to possess 
literary tastes and attainments, why seek to compel him to do that, 
to which his own inclinations would naturally prompt him, and from 
which he wo aid only be drawn aside, when, as in the case of a lawyer 
or physician, his studies could be more advantageously prosecuted 
elsewhere % 

On the other hand, supposing the Fellowship to be filled up with- 
out due reference to the claims of merit, the enforcement of residence 
would have the effect of fixing at the University men of uncongenial 
habits, whose presence must be equally detrimental to themselves 
and to others. 

It would indeed be a singular act of inconsistency in the members 
of the Legislature, if, when they felt themselves authorized by consi- 
derations of public utility to overrule the injunctions of founders 
with respect to matters in which the most earnest reformers within 
our walls have felt themselves precluded, from conscientious motives, 
from proposing changes ; they should at the same time compel us to 
return to our statutes on a point, wherein the altered condition of 
Society reconciles the most scrupulous of our members to that de- 
parture from their strict letter which has long taken place. 

The enforcement of residence upon Fellows, beyond the amount 
necessary for the purposes of instruction, and of carrying on the 
concerns of the College, could only have reference, in the minds of 
Founders, either to the advancement of learning, or to the observance 
of monastic discipline. 

So far as the former was their object, it would at present be suffi- 
ciently consulted by the many inducements to residence which the 
University holds out to the real student ; if the latter made any part 
of their intentions, Parliament, in the nineteenth century, can hardly 
desire to go out oi its way to further them, by inculcating, or rendering 
more inveterate, those conventual habits and feelings, which cause 
[ '62 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



view of these Institutions, which the perverse inge- 
nuity of a few persons of late years has ventured to 
uphold ; but which was disavowed by their own 
Members at the time of the Reformation, as a plea of 
exemption from the common fate which then awaited 
the Religious Houses; and which seems to have been 
repudiated by the earliest and most catholic-minded 
of our Founders, in the distinct prohibition which 
their statutes contain against any member of a 
conventual establishment holding a position within 
our colleges. 

I should apologise, Gentlemen, for detaining you 
so long on these topics, if I did not feel, that the 
English universities not only are, but will be reco- 
gnised by you all, as national establishments — national, 
not only because there is perhaps no one in an 
assembly like the present whose nearest relatives 
may not at some time or other be assisted in their 
education by the scholarships, or rewarded for their 

religious observances to be regarded, not as the proper preparation 
for the duties of life, but as its sole business ; this latter being the 
only assignable ground for enforcing residence in Colleges, on persons 
not fitted or disposed to avail themselves to any extent of the means 
and appliances for literary occupation which Oxford so abundantly 
affords. 

P.S. June 10th. The above clauses are, I am happy to see, ex- 
cluded from the Bill " as amended in Committee and on re-com- 
mitment," but provisions of a similar tendency seem still to be left 
within the powers with which the Commissioners are to be invested. 
[ 163 ] O 



DR DAUBENY 



exertions by the fellowships, of which we have the 
disposal; hut also because the existence of a high 
standard of education anywhere within our common 
country is a national benefit even to those who do 
not directly partake of it. 

It would seem a happy circumstance, that in a 
country of great proprietors like our own, some 
portion of the land should have been removed from 
the grasp of individuals, by being held, as it were, in 
mortmain for the benefit of the community at large ; 
and not less so, that amongst a nation so absorbed 
in the pursuit of wealth, and holding out to all 
classes such strong temptations to plunge into active 
ife at as early a period as possible, establishments 
should exist, by the aid of which the educated classes 
may be induced to linger a little over those studies, 
which exert a generous and ennobling influence upon 
the character of a people, and tend to counteract 
the too practical and utilitarian tendencies of the 
age in which we live. 

The genius of Oxford, indeed, has, I believe, on 
many occasions operated beneficially upon the general 
surface of English society. May we not also hope that, 
in return, those without her walls may react with advan- 
tage upon the university itself, by putting forth so 
strong an expression of public opinion, as may induce 
our Members to hold for the future in equal esteem, 
[ 164 1 



ON THE STUDY OF CHEMISTRY. 



and to foster with an equal degree of encouragement, 
each one of the liberal branches of intellectual 
culture. 

Should such hereafter be the case, and should the 
application of a portion of our endowments to the 
advancement of physical science be admitted as a 
natural consequence of such a view, great indeed 
would be the stimulus thus afforded to this class of 
pursuits, and great the advancement in the sciences 
which might be expected to accrue. 

The English universities might then again become, 
as they were of old, the principal seats of physical 
research, as well as the main repositories of existing 
knowledge in the country ; and as at the present 
time the amateurs of science at Oxford wend their 
way to the Royal Institution to obtain the first 
announcement of the researches of a Faraday, so it 
may happen that at some future day the inhabitants 
of the metropolis may be induced to crowd to our 
University, in order to become acquainted with the 
discoveries worked out by some new Roger Bacon, 
within the cloisters of his Academic Home. 



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[ «6 7 ] 



ON THE 

IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OE PHYSICS AS 
A BEANCH OF EDUCATION FOE 

ALL CLASSES: 

A LECTURE DELIVERED AT THE ROYAL INSTITUTION 
OE GREAT BRITAIN. 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL, F.R.S. 



ON THE 

IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF 
PHYSICS 

AS A BRANCH OF EDUCATION". 



rpHEEE is a word in the title of this Lecture 
which does not clearly convey the idea by which 
I shall be guided in its delivery. I hold in my hand 
a soiled proof of the syllabus of the present course, 
and the title of the present lecture is there stated to 
be ' On the Importance of the Study of Physics as a 
Means of Education/ The corrected proof, however, 
contains the following title : — 'On the Importance of 
the Study of Physics as a Branch of Education/ 
Small as the alteration may seem from means to 
branch, the two words appear to me to suggest 
two radically distinct modes of viewing the subject 
before us. The term Education is sometimes applied 
to a single faculty or organ, and if we know wherein 
the education of a single organ or faculty consists, this 
knowledge will enable us to form a clearer notion re- 
[ 171 ] P 2 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



garding the education of the sum of all the faculties, 
or of the mind. When, for example, we speak of the 
education of the voice, what do we mean ? There 
are certain membranes at the top of the windpipe 
which are capable of being thrown into vibration by 
the air forced between them from the lungs, and thus 
caused to produce sound. These membranes are, to 
some extent, under the control of the will : it is 
found that they can be so modified by exercise as to 
produce notes of a clearer and more melodious cha- 
racter, and this exercise we call the education of the 
voice. We may choose for our exercise a new song 
or an old song, a festive song or a solemn chant ; 
and, the education of the voice being the object we 
have in view, the songs may be regarded as the 
means by which this education is accomplished. I 
think this expresses the state of the case more clearly 
than if we were to call the songs a branch of educa- 
tion. Regarding also the education of the human 
mind as the improvement and development of the 
mental faculties, I consider the study of Physics to 
be a means towards the attainment of these objects. 
Of course, from this point of view, I degrade Physics 
into an implement of culture, and I mean to do so, 
to a great extent; for the general expansion of the 
intellectual powers implies both the acquisition 
of specific knowledge and the ability to render it 

[ m ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



productive. There is this great difference between 
those who pursue a thing as a branch and those who 
use it as a means : in the latter case the knowledge 
imparted is truly power; whereas, in the former case, 
it may be the reverse. Viewing, then, the develop- 
ment of the mental faculties as the end of mental 
education, it will be my endeavour to state to you 
some of the claims of Physical Science as a means 
towards the attainment of this end. 

I do not think that it is the mission of this age, 
or of any other particular age, to lay down a system 
of education which shall hold good for all ages. The 
basis of human nature is, perhaps, permanent, but 
not so the forms under which the spirit of humanity 
manifests itself. It is sometimes peaceful, sometimes 
warlike, sometimes religious, sometimes sceptical, 
and history is simply the record of its mutations. 

' The eternal Pan 
Who layeth the world's incessant plan 
Halteth never in one shape, 
But for ever doth escape 
Into new forms.' 

This appears to be the law of things throughout the 
universe, and it is therefore no proof of fickleness 
or destructiveness, properly so called, if the imple- 
ments of human culture change with the times, and 
the requirements of the present age be found different 

[ m ] 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



from those of the preceding. Unless you can say to 
me that the past world, or some portion of it, has 
been the final expression of human competency; that 
the wisdom of man has already reached its climax ; 
that the intellect of to-day possesses feebler powers, 
or a narrower scope than the intellect of earlier 
times ; you cannot, with reason, demand from me an 
unconditional acceptance of the systems of the past, 
nor are you justified in divorcing me from the world 
and times in which I live, and confining my conver- 
sation to the times gone by. Who can blame me if 
I cherish the belief that the world is still young ; that 
there are great possibilities in store for it ; that the 
Englishman of to-day is made of as good stuff, and 
has as high and independent a vocation to fulfil, as 
had the ancient Greek or Roman. While thankfully 
accepting what antiquity has to offer, let us never 
forget that the present century has just as good a 
right to its own forms of thought and methods of 
culture as any former centuries had to theirs, and 
that the same sources of power are open to us to-day 
as were ever open to man in any age of the world. 

In the earliest religious writings, we find man 
described as a mixture of the earthy and the divine. 
The existence of the latter implies, in his case, that 
of the former : and hence the holiest and most self- 
denying saint must, to a certain extent, protect him- 
[ '74 ] 



ON" THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



self against hunger and cold. But every attempt to 
restrict man to the dominion of the senses has failed, 
and will continue to fail. He is the repository of 
forces which push him beyond the world of sense. 
He has an intellect as well as a palate, and the 
demands of the latter being satisfied, the former 
inevitably puts in its claim. We cannot quench 
these desires of the intellect. They are stimulated 
by the phenomena which surround us in our present 
state of existence as the body is by oxygen ; and in 
the presence of these phenomena man thirsts for 
knowledge as an Arab longs for water when he 
smells the Nile. The Chaldean shepherds could not 
rest contented with their bread and milk, but made 
the discovery that man had other wants to satisfy. 
The stars shed their light upon the shepherd and 
his flock, but in both cases with very different results. 
The quadruped cropped the green herbage and slept 
contented ; but that power which had already made 
man the lord of the quadruped was appealed to night 
after night, and thus the intellectual germ which lay 
in the nature of these Chaldeans was stimulated and 
developed. Surely, if man be not made, and stars 
scattered, by guess-work, there is strong reason for 
assuming that it was intended that mental power 
should be developed in this way. As the nurse 
holds her glittering toy before the infant that she 
L'75] 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



would encourage to take its first step, so it would 
appear as if one of the ends of the Creator, in setting 
those shining things in heaven, was to woo the 
attention and excite the intellectual activity of his 
earthborn child. But if this be granted, then it 
must be admitted that we have the very highest 
sanction for the prosecution of physical research. 
Sanction, indeed, is a term too weak to express the 
inference suggested by a comparison of Man's powers 
with his position upon earth ; it points to an impe- 
rative command to search and to examine, rather 
than to a mere toleration of physical inquiry. 

The term Physics, as made use of in the present 
Lectm'e, refers to that portion of natural science 
which lies midway between astronomy and chemistry. 
The former, indeed, is Physics applied to masses of 
enormous weight, while the latter is Physics applied 
to atoms and molecules. The subjects of Physics 
proper are, therefore, those which lie nearest to 
human perception : — the light and heat of the sun, 
colour, sound, motion, the loadstone, electrical 
attractions and repulsions, thunder and lightning, 
rain, snow, dew, and so forth. The senses of Man 
stand between these phenomena, between the external 
world, and the world of thought. He observes the 
fact, but is not satisfied with the mere act of observ- 
ation : he must render an account of the fact : he 
[ i76] 



OjST the study of physics. 



takes his images from Nature and transfers them to 
the domain of thought : he looks at them, compares 
them, observes their mutual relations and connexions, 
and thus brings them clearer and clearer before his 
mental eye, until, finally, he alights upon the cause 
which unites them. This is the last act of the 
mind, in this centripetal direction, in its progress 
from the multiplicity of facts to the central cause on 
which they depend. But, having guessed the cause, 
he is not yet contented : he now sets out from his 
centre and travels in the other direction : he sees 
that if his guess- be true, certain consequences must 
follow from it, and he appeals to the law and testi- 
mony of experiment whether the thing is so. Thus 
he completes the circuit of thought, — from without 
inward, from multiplicity to unity, and from within 
outward, from unity to multiplicity. He traverses 
the line between cause and effect both ways, and, in 
so doing, calls all his reasoning powers into play. 
For the mental effort involved in these processes may 
be justly compared to those exercises of the body which 
invoke the co-operation of every muscle, and thus con- 
fer upon the whole frame the benefits of healthy action. 
The first experiment a man makes is a physical 
experiment : he is a natural philosopher by instinct, 
and the suction-pump is but an imitation of the first 
act of every new-born infant. Nor do T think it 
[ *77 ] 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



calculated to lessen that infant's reverence, or to 
make him a worse citizen, when his riper experience 
shows him that the atmosphere was his helper in 
extracting the first draught from his mother's breast. 
The child grows, but is still an experimenter : he 
grasps at the moon, and his failure teaches him to 
respect distance. At length his little fingers acquire 
sufficient mechanical tact to lay hold of a spoon. He 
thrusts the instrument into his mouth ; hurts his 
little gums, and thus learns the impenetrability of 
matter. He lets the spoon fall, and jumps with 
delight to hear it rattle against the table. The 
experiment made by accident is repeated with inten- 
tion, and thus the young Newton receives his first 
lessons upon sound and gravitation. There are 
pains and penalties, however, in the path of the 
young inquirer : he is sure to go wrong, and Nature 
is just as sure to inform him of the fact. He falls 
down stairs, burns his fingers, cuts his hand, scalds 
his tongue, and in this way learns the conditions of 
his physical well being. This is Nature's way of pro- 
ceeding, and it is wonderful what progress her pupil 
makes. His enjoyments for a time are physical, 
and the confectioner's shop occupies the foreground 
of human happiness ; but the blossoms of a finer life 
are already beginning to unfold themselves, and the 
relation of cause and effect dawns upon the boy. 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



He begins to see that the present condition of things 
is not final, but depends upon one that has gone 
before, and will be succeeded by another. He 
becomes a puzzle to himself; and to satisfy his 
newly-awakened curiosity, asks all manner of incon- 
venient questions. The needs and tendencies of 
human nature express themselves through these 
early yearnings of the child. He desires to know 
the character and causes of the phenomena presented 
to him; and unless this desire has been granted for 
the express purpose of having it repressed, unless the 
attractions of natural phenomena be like the blush 
of the forbidden fruit, conferred merely for the pur- 
pose of exercising our self-denial by letting them 
alone; then I claim for the study of Physics the 
recognition that it answers to an impulse implanted 
by nature in the human constitution, and he who 
would oppose such study must be prepared to exhibit 
the credentials which authorize him to contravene 
Nature's manifest designs. Such credentials were 
never given; and the opposition, where it exists, is 
in most, if not in all cases due to the fact, that at 
the time when the opponent of Science was beginning 
to inquire like the little boy, it was so arranged by 
human institutions that the train of thought suggested 
by natural objects should, in his case, be supplanted 
by another. But is this unavoidable ? Is, for ex- 
[ *79 ] 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



ample, the knowledge of grammatical concord and 
government so utterly antagonistic to the scientific 
discernment of the same two principles in Nature, 
as to render the complete extrusion of the one 
necessary to the existence of the other ? A few days 
ago, a Master of Arts, who is still a young man, 
and therefore the recipient of a modern education, 
stated to me that until he had reached the age 
of twenty years he had never been taught anything 
regarding Light, Heat, Magnetism, or Electricity: 
twelve years of his life previously had been spent 
among the ancients, all connexion being thus severed 
between him and natural phenomena. Now, we 
cannot, without prejudice to humanity, separate the 
present from the past. The nineteenth century 
strikes its roots into the centuries gone by, and draws 
nutriment from them. The world cannot afford to 
lose the record of any great deed or utterance ; for 
such deeds and such utterances are prolific through- 
out all time. We cannot yield the companionship 
of our loftier brothers of antiquity, — of our Socrates 
and Cato, — whose lives provoke us to sympathetic 
greatness across the interval of two thousand years. 
As long as the ancient languages are the means of 
access to the ancient mind, they must ever be of 
priceless value to humanity; but it is as the avenues 
of ancient thought, and not as the instruments of 
[ 180 ] 



OjST the study of physics. 



modem culture, that they are chiefly valuable to 
Man. Surely these avenues might be kept open 
without making such sacrifices as that above referred 
to, universal. We have conquered and possessed 
ourselves of continents of land, concerning which 
antiquity knew nothing ; and if new continents of 
thought reveal themselves to the exploring human 
spirit, shall we not possess them also? In these 
latter days, the study of Physics has given us glimpses 
of the methods of Nature which were quite hidden 
from the ancients, and it would be treason to the trust 
committed to us, if we were to sacrifice the hopes and 
aspirations of the Present out of deference to the Past. 
I dare say the bias of my own education manifests 
itself in a desire I always feel to seize upon every 
possible opportunity of checking my assumptions 
and conclusions by experience. I might, it is true, 
appeal directly to your own consciousness in proof 
of the tendency of the human mind to inquire into 
the phenomena presented to the senses ; but I trust 
you will excuse me if, instead of doing this, I take 
advantage of the facts which have fallen in my own 
way through life, referring to your judgment to 
decide whether such facts are truly representative 
and general, and not merely individual and local. 
At an agricultural college in Hampshire, with which 
I was connected for some time, and which is now 
[ i8i ] 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



converted into a school for the general education of 
youth, a Society was formed among the hoys, which 
met weekly for the purpose of reading reports and 
papers upon various subjects. The Society had its 
president and treasurer; and abstracts of its pro- 
ceedings were published in a little monthly periodical 
issuing from the school press. One of the most 
remarkable features of these weekly meetings was, 
that after the general business had been concluded 
each member of the Society enjoyed the right' of 
asking questions on any subject on which he desired 
information. The questions were either written out 
previously in a book devoted to the purpose, or, 
if a question happened to suggest itself during the 
meeting, it was written upon a slip of paper and 
handed in to the Secretary, who afterwards read all 
the questions aloud. A number of teachers were 
usually present, and they and the boys made a com- 
mon stock of their wisdom in furnishing replies. As 
might be expected from an assemblage of eighty or 
ninety boys, varying from eighteen to eight years 
old, many extraordinary questions were proposed. 
To the eye which loves to detect in the tendencies 
of the young the instincts of humanity generally, 
such questions are not without a certain philosophic 
interest, and I have therefore thought it not deroga- 
tory to the present course of Lectures to copy a few 
[ *» 2 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



of these questions, and to introduce them here. They 
run as follows : — 

What are the duties of the Astronomer Royal ? 

What is frost ? 

Why are thunder and lightning more frequent 
in summer than in winter ? 

What occasions falling stars ? 

What is the cause of the sensation called ' pins 
and needles' ? 

What is the cause of waterspouts ? 

What is the cause of hiccup ? 

If a towel be wetted with water, why does the 
wet portion become darker than before ? 

What is meant by Lancashire witches ? 

Does the dew rise or fall ? 

What is the principle of the hydraulic press ? 

Is there more oxygen in the air in summer than 
in winter ? 

What are those rings which we see round the 
gas and sun ? 

What is thunder ? 

How is it that a black hat can be moved by 
forming round it a magnetic circle, while a white 
hat remains stationary ? 

What is the cause of perspiration ? 

Is it true that men were once monkeys ? 

What is the difference between the soul and the mind? 
[ 183] 



PROFESSOR TTNDALL 



Is it contrary to the rules of Vegetarianism to eat 
eggs? 

In looking over these questions, which were wholly 
unprompted, and have been copied almost at random 
from the book already alluded to, we see that many 
of them are suggested directly by natural objects, 
and are not such merely as had an interest conferred 
on them by previous culture. Now the fact is 
beyond the boy's control, and so certainly is the 
desire to know its cause. The sole question then is, 
is this desire to be gratified or not ? Who created 
the fact ? Who implanted the desire ? Certainly 
not Man — and will any man undertake to place him- 
self between the mind and the fact, and proclaim a 
divorce between them ? Take, for example, the 
case of the wetted towel, which at first sight appears 
to be one of the most unpromising questions in the 
list. Shall we tell the proposer to repress his 
curiosity, as the subject is improper for him to know, 
and thus interpose our wisdom to rescue the boy 
from the consequences of Nature's atrocity in im- 
planting a desire which acts to his prejudice ? Or, 
recognising the propriety of the question, how shall 
we answer it ? It is impossible to answer it with- 
out reference to the laws of optics — impossible to 
answer it without making the boy to some extent a 
natural philosopher. You may say that the effect 
[ i84 ] 



ON THE STUDY OP PHYSICS. 



is due to the reflection of light at the common sur- 
face of two media of different refractive indices. But 
this answer presupposes on the part of the boy a 
knowledge of what reflection and refraction are, or 
reduces you to the necessity of explaining them. On 
looking more closely into the matter, we find that 
our wet towel belongs to a class of phenomena ex- 
hibited by tabasheer and hydrophane, which have 
long excited the interest of philosophers. These 
bodies are opaque when dry, but when dipped into 
water or beech-nut oil they become transparent. The 
towel is white for the same reason that snow is 
white, that foam is white, that pounded granite or 
glass is white, and that the salt we use at table 
is white. On quitting one medium and entering 
another, a portion of light is always reflected, but 
with this restriction, the media must possess differ- 
ent refractive indices. Thus, when we immerse 
glass in water, light is reflected from the common 
surface of both, and it is this light which enables us 
to see the glass. But take a transparent solid and 
immerse it in a liquid of the same refractive index 
as itself, it will immediately disappear. I remember 
once dropping the eyeball of an ox into water; it 
vanished as if by magic, with the exception of the crys- 
talline lens, and the surprise was so great as to cause 
a bystander to suppose that the mass had been in- 
[ 185 ] Q 



PEOFESSOR TYNDALL 



stantly dissolved. This, however, was not tlie case, 
and a comparison of the refractive index of the vitre- 
ous humour with that of water cleared up the whole 
matter. The indices were identical, and hence the 
light pursued its way through both bodies as if they 
formed one continuous mass. In the case of snow, 
powdered quartz, or salt, we have a transparent solid 
body mixed with air ; at every transition from solid 
to air, or from air to solid, a portion of light is 
reflected ; this takes place so often that the light 
is wholly intercepted, and thus from the mixture of 
two transparent bodies we obtain an opaque one. 
Now the case of the towel is precisely similar. The 
tissue is composed of semi-transparent vegetable fibres, 
with the interstices between them filled with air ; 
repeated reflection takes place at the limiting surfaces 
of air and fibre, and hence the towel becomes opaque 
like snow or salt. But if we fill the interstices of 
the towel with water, we diminish the reflection ; 
a portion of the light enters the mass, and the 
darkness of the towel is due to its increased trans- 
parency. Thus the hydrophane, tabasheer, the 
tracing paper used by engineers, and many other 
considerations of the highest scientific interest, are 
involved in the simple enquiry of this unsuspecting 
little boy. 

Again, take the question regarding the rising or 
[ '86 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



falling of the clew — a question long agitated, and 
finally set at rest by the beautiful researches of Wells 
and Melloni. I do not think that any boy of aver- 
age intelligence will be satisfied with the simple 
answer that the dew falls. He will wish to learn 
how you know that it falls, and, if acquainted with 
the notions of the middle ages, may refer to the 
opinion of Father Lauras, that, if you fill a goose 
egg with the morning dew and expose it to the sun, 
it will rise like a balloon — a swan's egg being better 
for the experiment than a goose egg. It is impos- 
sible to give the boy a clear notion of the beautiful 
phenomenon to which his question refers, without 
first making him acquainted with the radiation and 
conduction of heat. Take, for example, a blade of 
grass, from which one of these orient pearls is 
depending. During the day the grass, and the earth 
beneath it, possess a certain amount of warmth im- 
parted by the sun ; during a serene night, heat is 
radiated from the surface of the grass into space, 
and to supply the loss, there is a flow of heat from 
the interior portions of the blade towards its surface. 
Thus the surface loses heat by radiation, and gains 
heat by conduction. Now, in the case before us, the 
power of radiation is great, whereas the power of 
conduction is small; the consequence is that the 
blade loses more than it gains, and hence becomes 
[ 187 ] Q2 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



more and more refrigerated. The light vapour float- 
ing around the surface so cooled is precipitated upon 
it, and there accumulates to form the little pearly 
globe which we call a dew-drop. 

Thus the boy finds the simple and homely fact 
which addressed his senses to be the outcome and 
flower of the deepest laws. The fact becomes, in a 
measure, sanctified as an object of thought, and in- 
vested for him with a beauty for evermore. He 
thus learns that things which, at first sight, seem to 
stand isolated and without apparent brotherhood in 
Nature are united by their causes, and finds the 
detection of these analogies a source of perpetual 
delight. To enlist pleasure on the side of intellectual 
performance is a point of the utmost importance; 
for the exercise of the mind, like that of the body, 
depends for its value upon the spirit in which it is 
accomplished. Every physician knows that some- 
thing more than mere mechanical motion is compre- 
hended under the idea of healthful exercise — that, 
indeed, being most healthful which makes us forget all 
ulterior ends in the mere enjoyment of it. What, for 
example, could be substituted for the jubilant shout 
of the playground, where the boy plays for the mere 
love of playing, and without reference to physiological 
laws; while kindly Nature accomplishes her ends 
unconsciously, and makes his very indifference benefi- 

[ 188 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



cial to him. You may have more systematic motions, 
you may devise means for the more perfect traction 
of each particular muscle, but you cannot create the 
joy and gladness of the game, and where these are 
absent, the charm and the health of the exercise are 
gone. The case is similar with mental education; 
but the extent to which this has been, and con- 
tinues to be forgotten, would justify us in doubting 
whether Nature is so sparing of her gifts as to cause 
those souls which mark epochs in human history to 
be separated from each other by centuries, or whether 
the fact be not attributable to human mismanage- 
ment, by which the gifts referred to are squandered 
and misapplied. Why should the mind of youth 
be so completely warped from its healthful and happy 
action, so utterly withdrawn from those studies to 
which its earliest tendencies point, and in the culti- 
vation of which the concurrence of its ardour would 
powerfully tend to the augmentation of its strength, 
as to leave the man in after-life, unless enlightened 
by his visits to an institution such as that in which 
we are now assembled, in absolute ignorance as to 
whether the material world is governed by law or 
chance, or indeed whether those phenomena which 
excited his youthful questionings be not really the 
jugglery of Scandinavian Jotuns, or some similar 
demonic power? 

L i89 ] 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



The study of Physics, as already intimated, con- 
sists of two processes, which are complementary to 
each other — the tracing of facts to their causes, and 
the logical advance from the cause to the fact. In 
the former process, called induction, certain moral 
qualities come into play. It requires patient industry, 
and an humble and conscientious acceptance of what 
Nature reveals. The first condition of success is an 
honest receptivity and a willingness to abandon all 
preconceived notions, however cherished, if they be 
found to contradict the truth. Believe me, a self- 
renunciation which has something noble in it, and 
of which the world never hears, is often enacted in 
the private experience of the true votary of science. 
And if a man be not capable of this self-renuncia- 
tion — this loyal surrender of himself to Nature, he 
lacks, in my opinion, the first mark of a true philo- 
sopher. Thus the earnest prosecutor of science, 
who does not work with the idea of producing a 
sensation in the world, who loves the truth better 
than the transitory blaze of to-day's fame, who comes 
to his task with a single eye, finds in that task an 
indirect means of the highest moral culture. And 
although the virtue of the act depends upon its 
privacy, this sacrifice of self, this upright determina- 
tion to accept the truth, no matter how it may present 
itself — even at the hands of a scientific foe, if neces- 
[ *9° ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



sary — carries with it its own reward. When preju- 
dice is put under foot and the stains of personal bias 
have been washed away — when a man consents to lay 
aside his vanity and to become Nature's organ — his 
elevation is the instant consequence of his humility. 
I should not wonder if my remarks provoked a smile, 
for they seem to indicate that I regard the man of 
science as a heroic, if not indeed an angelic, individual; 
and cases may occur to you which seem to indicate 
the reverse. You may point to the quarrels of scientific 
men, to their struggles for priority, to that unpleasant 
egotism which screams around its little property of 
discovery like a scared plover about its young. I 
will not deny all this; but let it be set down to its 
proper account, to the weakness — or, if you will — 
to the selfishness of Man, but not to the charge of 
Physical Science. 

The second process in physical investigation is 
deduction, or the advance of the mind from fixed 
principles to the conclusions which flow from them. 
The rules of logic are the formal statement of this 
process, which, however, was practised by every 
healthy mind before ever such rules were written. 
In the study of Physics, induction and deduction are 
perpetually married to each other. The man observes, 
strips facts of their peculiarities of form, and tries 
to unite them by their essences ; having effected 
[ "9i ] 



PKOFESSOR TY1S T DALL 



this, he at once deduces, and thus checks his in- 
duction. Here the grand difference between the 
methods at present followed, and those of the an- 
cients, becomes manifest. They were one-sided in 
these matters : they omitted the process of induction, 
and substituted conjecture for observation. They 
do not seem to have possessed sufficient patience to 
watch the slow processes of Nature, and to make 
themselves acquainted with the conditions under 
which she operates. They could never, therefore, 
fulfil the mission of Man given at the commence- 
ment, " Replenish the earth, and subdue it/" The 
subjugation of Nature is only to be accomplished by 
the penetration of her secrets and the mastery of 
her laws. This not only enables us to turn her 
forces against each other, so as to protect ourselves 
from their hostile action, but makes them our slaves. 
By the study of Physics we have indeed opened to 
us treasuries of power of which antiquity never 
dreamed : we lord it over Matter, and in so doing 
have become better acquainted with the laws of 
Mind ; for to the mental philosopher the study of 
Physics furnishes a screen against which the human 
spirit projects its own image, and thus becomes 
capable of self-inspection. 

Thus, then, as a means of intellectual culture, the 
study of Physics exercises and sharpens observation : 

[ l 9 2 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



it brings the most exhaustive logic into play : it 
compares, abstracts, and generalizes, and provides a 
mental scenery admirably suited to the conducting 
of these processes. The strictest precision of thought 
is everywhere enforced, and prudence, foresight, and 
sagacity are demanded. By its appeals to experi- 
ment, it continually checks itself, and thus walks on 
a foundation of facts. Hence the exercise it invokes 
does not end in a mere game of intellectual gymnas- 
tics, such as the ancients delighted in, but tends to 
the mastery of natural agents. This gradual conquest 
of the external world, and the consciousness of aug- 
mented strength which accompanies it, render the 
study of Physics as delightful as it is important. Its 
effects upon the imagination I have not observed 
closely, but certain it is that the cool results of phy- 
sical induction furnish conceptions which transcend 
most of those of imagination proper. Take for ex- 
ample the idea of an all-pervading ether which trans- 
mits a tingle, so to speak, to the finger ends of the 
universe every time a street lamp is lighted. The 
little billows of this ether can be measured with the 
same ease and certainty as that with which an en- 
gineer measures a base and two angles, and from 
these finds the distance .across the Thames. Now 
there is just as much poetry in the measurement of 
the river as in that of an ethereal undulation ; for 
[ J 93 ] 



PROFESSOR TYISTDALL 



the intellect, during the acts of measurement and 
calculation, destroys those notions of size which 
appeal to the poetic faculty. It is a mistake to sup- 
pose, with Dr. Young, that 

' An undevout astronomer is mad ;' 

there being no necessary connexion between a devout 
state of mind and the observations and calculations 
of a practical astronomer. For it is not until the man 
withdraws from his calculation, as a painter from his 
work, and thus realizes the great idea at which he 
has been engaged, that imagination and wonder are 
excited. Now here, I confess, is a possible danger. 
If the arithmetical processes of science be too ex- 
clusively pursued, they may, I think, impair the 
imagination, and thus the study of Physics is open 
to the same objection as philological, theological, 
or political studies, when carried to excess. But even 
in this case, the injury done is to the investigator 
himself: it does not reach the mass of mankind. 
Indeed, the conceptions furnished by his cold unima- 
ginative reckonings may furnish themes for the poet, 
and excite in the highest degree that sentiment of 
wonder which, notwithstanding all its foolish vagaries, 
table-turning included, I, for my part, should be sorry 
to see banished from the world. 

I have thus far dwelt upon the study of Physics 
as an agent of intellectual culture ; but like other 
[ J 94 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



things in Nature, this study subserves more than 
a single end. The colours of the clouds delight 
the eye, and, no doubt, accomplish moral purposes 
also, but the self-same clouds hold within their fleeces 
the moisture by which our fields are rendered fruit- 
ful. The sunbeams excite our interest and invite 
our investigation; but they also extend their bene- 
ficent influences to our fruits and corn, and thus 
accomplish, not only intellectual ends, but minister, 
at the same time, to our material necessities. And 
so it is with scientific research. While the love of 
science is a sufficient incentive to the pursuit of 
science, and the investigator, in the prosecution of 
his inquiries, is raised above all material considera- 
tions, the results of his labours may exercise a 
potent influence upon the physical condition of Man. 
This is the arrangement of Nature, and not that of 
the scientific investigator himself; for he usually pur- 
sues his object without regard to its practical appli- 
cations. And let him who is dazzled by such appli- 
cations — who sees in the steam-engine and the electric 
telegraph the highest embodiment of human genius 
and the only legitimate object of scientific research, 
beware of prescribing conditions to the investigator. 
Let him beware of attempting to substitute for that 
simple love with which the votary of science pursues 
his task, the calculations of what he is pleased to 
[-95] 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



call utility. The professed utilitarian is unfortu- 
nately, in most cases, the very last man to see the 
occult sources from which useful results are derived. 
He admires the flower, but is totally ignorant of the 
conditions of its growth. The scientific man must 
approach Nature in his own way ; for if you invade 
his freedom by your so-called practical considera- 
tions, it may be at the expense of those qualities on 
which his success as a discoverer depends. Let the 
self-styled practical man look to those from the 
fecundity of whose thought he, and thousands like 
him, have sprung into existence. Were they in- 
spired in their first inquiries by the calculations of 
utility ? Not one of them. They were often forced 
to live low and lie hard, and to seek a compensation 
for their penury in the delight which their favourite 
pursuits afforded them. In the words of one well 
qualified to speak upon this subject, c I say not 
merely look at the pittance of men like John Dalton, 
or the voluntary starvation of the late Graff; but 
compare what is considered as competency or afflu- 
ence by your Faradays, Liebigs, and Herschels, with 
the expected results of a life of successful commer- 
cial enterprise : then compare the amount of mind 
put forth, the work done for society in either case, 
and you will be constrained to allow that the former 
belong to a class of workers who, properly speaking, 
[ 196 ] 



OX THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



are not paid, and cannot be paid for their work, as 
indeed it is of a sort to which no payment could 
stimulate/ 

But while the scientific investigator, who, standing 
upon the frontiers of human knowledge, and aiming at 
the conquest of fresh soil from the surrounding region 
of the unknown, makes the discovery of truth his exclu- 
sive object for the time, he cannot but feel the deepest 
interest in the practical application of the truth 
discovered. There is something ennobling in the 
the triumph of Mind over Matter : apart even from 
its uses to society, there is something sublime in the 
idea of Man having tamed that wild force which rushes 
through the telegraphic wire, and made it the mini- 
ster of his will. Our attainments in these directions 
appear to be commensurate with our needs. We 
had already subdued horse and mule, and obtained 
from them all the service which it was in their power 
to render : we must either stand still, or find more 
potent agents to execute our purposes. To stand 
still, however, was not in the plan of Him who made 
motion a condition of life, and, as if by His high 
arrangement, the steam-engine appeared. Remem- 
ber that these are but new things; that it is not 
long since we struck into the scientific methods 
which have produced these extraordinary results. We 
cannot for an instant regard them as the final 
[ J 97 ] 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



achievements of Science, bnt rather as an earnest of 
what she is yet to do. They mark onr first great 
advances upon the dominion of Nature. Animal 
strength fails, but here are the forces which hold 
the world together, and the instincts and successes 
of Man assure him that these forces are his when 
he is wise enough to command them. Is it not an 
object worthy the contemplation of a philosopher, to 
see a man experimenting in a corner, pondering in a 
closet, and gathering, by slow degrees, the mighty 
agencies of Nature into the sphericity of his little head: 
to see him come forth, and, in the application of his 
private thought, realize morally the physical dream of 
Archimedes, by lifting at an effort the whole world 
to a higher level. This has been done, and will pro- 
bably be done again ; but the study of Physics always 
was, and ever must remain, the forerunner of such 
achievements. 

In the title of this Lecture, the study of Physics 
as a branch of education ' for all classes' is spoken 
of. I am not quite sure that I understand the mean- 
ing intended to be conveyed by the words ' all 
classes •/ and I have regarded the question with 
reference to those mental qualities which God has 
distributed without reference to class. As an instru- 
ment of intellectual culture, the study of Physics is 
profitable to all : as bearing upon special functions, 
[ 198 ] 



ON THE STUDY OP PHYSICS. 



its value, though not so great, is still more tangible. 
Why, for example, should Members of Parliament 
be ignorant of the subjects concerning which they 
are called upon to legislate? In this land of prac- 
tical physics, why should they be unable to form an 
independent opinion upon a physical question? Why 
should the senator be left at the mercy of interested 
disputants when a scientific question is discussed, until 
he deems the nap a blessing which rescues him from 
the bewilderments of the committee-room? The educa- 
tion which does not supply the want here referred to, 
fails in its duty to England. I state nothing visionary, 
when I say that in a country like ours, whose great- 
ness depends so much upon the applications of phy- 
sical science, it would be a wholesome and rational 
test to make admission to the House of Commons 
contingent on a knowledge of the principles of Natu- 
ral Philosophy. With regard to our working people, 
in the ordinary sense of the term working, the study 
of Physics would, I imagine, be profitable, not only 
as a means of mental culture, but also as a moral in- 
fluence to woo these people from pursuits which now 
degrade them. A man's reformation oftener depends 
upon the indirect, than upon the direct action of the 
will. The will must be exerted in the choice of 
employment which shall break the force of tempta- 
tion by erecting a barrier against it. The drunkard, 
L *99 ] 



PROFESSOR TYTSTDALL 



for example, is in a perilous condition if lie content 
himself merely with saying, or swearing, that he will 
avoid strong drink. His thoughts, if not attracted 
by another force, will revert to the public-house, 
and to rescue him permanently from this, you must 
give him an equivalent. It would certainly be worth 
experiment to try what the study of Physics would 
do here. By investing the objects of hourly inter- 
course with an interest which prompts reflection, new 
enjoyments would be opened to the working man, 
and every one of these would be a point of force to 
protect him against temptation. Besides this, our 
factories and our foundries present an extensive field 
of observation,, and were those who work in them 
rendered capable, by previous culture, of appreciating 
what they see, the results to science would be incal- 
culable. Who can say what intellectual Samsons 
are at the present moment toiling with closed eyes 
in the mills and forges of Manchester and Birming- 
ham? Grant these Samsons sight, give them some 
knowledge of Physics, and you multiply the chances 
of discovery, and with them the prospects of national 
advancement. In our multitudinous technical opera- 
tions we are constantly playing with forces where 
our ignorance is often the cause of our destruction. 
There are agencies at work in a locomotive of which 
the maker of it probably never dreamed, but which 
[ 200 ] 



ON THE STUDY OP PHYSICS. 



nevertheless may be sufficient to convert it into an 
engine of death. Again, when we reflect on the 
intellectual condition of the people who work in our 
coal mines, those terrific explosions which occur from 
time to time need not astonish us. If these men 
possessed sufficient plrysical knowledge, I doubt not, 
from the operatives themselves would emanate a 
system by which these shocking accidents might be 
effectually avoided. If they possessed the know- 
ledge, their personal interests would furnish the 
necessary stimulus to its practical application, and 
thus two ends would be served at the same time — 
the elevation of the men and the diminution of the 
calamity. 

Before the present Course of Lectures was pub- 
licly announced, I had many misgivings as to the 
propriety of my taking a part in them. I felt that 
my place might be better filled by an older man, 
whose experience would be more entitled to re- 
spect. Small as my experience was, however, I 
resolved to adhere to it, and in what I have said 
regarding mental processes, I have described things 
as they reveal themselves to my own eyes, and have 
been enacted in my own limited practice. In doing 
this, I have been supported by the belief that there 
is one mind common to us all ; and that if I be true 
to the expression of this mind, even in a small parti- 



201 



] B 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



cular, the truth will attest itself by a response in 
the convictions of my hearers. There may be 
the same difference between the utterance of two 
individuals of different ranges of intellectual power 
and experience on a subject like the present, as 
between ' The Descent from the Cross/ by Rubens, 
and the portrait of a spaniel dog. Nevertheless, if the 
portrait of the spaniel be true to nature, it recom- 
mends itself as truth to the human mind, and excites, 
in some degree, the interest that truth ever inspires. 
Thus far I have endeavoured to keep all tints and 
features which really do not belong to the portrait 
of my spaniel, apart from it, and I ask your permis- 
sion to proceed a little further in the same manner, 
and to refer to a fact or two in addition to those 
already cited, which presented themselves to my 
notice during my brief career as a teacher in the 
establishment already alluded to. The facts, though 
extremely humble, and deviating in some slight 
degree from the strict subject of the present discourse, 
may yet serve to illustrate an educational principle. 

One of the duties which fell to my share, during 
the period to which I have referred, was the instruc- 
tion of a class in mathematics, and I usually found 
that Euclid and the ancient geometry generally, 
when addressed to the understanding, formed a very 
attractive study for youth. But it was my habitual 

[ 202 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



practice to withdraw the boys from the routine of 
the book, and to appeal to their self-power in the 
treatment of questions not comprehended in that 
routine. At first, the change from the beaten track 
usually excited a little aversion : the youth felt like 
a child amid strangers; but in no single instance 
have I found this aversion to continue. When 
utterly disheartened, I have encouraged the boy by 
that anecdote of Newton, where he attributes the 
difference between him and other men, mainly to his 
own patience ; or of Mirabeau, when he ordered his 
servant, who had stated something to be impossible, 
never to use that stupid word again. Thus cheered, 
he has returned to his task with a smile, which 
perhaps had something of doubt in it, but which, 
nevertheless, evinced a resolution to try again. I 
have seen the boy's eye brighten, and, at length, 
with a pleasure of which the ecstasy of Archimedes 
was but a simple expansion, heard him exclaim, f I 
have it, sir.' The consciousness of self-power, thus 
awakened, was of immense value ; and, animated by 
it, the progress of the class was truly astonishing. 
It was often my custom to give the boys their choice 
of pursuing their propositions in the book, or of 
trying their strength at others not to be found there. 
Never in a single instance have I known the book 
to be chosen. I was ever ready to assist when I 
[ 303 ] R2 



PROFESSOR TY1STDALL 



deemed help needful, but my offers of assistance 
were habitually declined. The boys had tasted the 
sweets of intellectual conquest and demanded victories 
of their own. I have seen their diagrams scratched 
on the walls, cut into the beams upon the playground, 
and numberless other illustrations of the living inte- 
rest they took in the subject. For my own part, as- 
far as experience in teaching goes, I was a mere fledg- 
ling : I knew nothing of the rules of pedagogics, as 
the Germans name it ; but I adhered to the spirit 
indicated at the commencement of this discourse, and 
endeavoured to make geometry a means and not a 
branch of education. The experiment was successful, 
and some of the most delightful hours of my existence 
have been spent in marking the vigorous and cheerful 
expansion of mental power, when appealed to in the 
manner I have described. 

And then again, the pleasure we all experienced 
was enhanced when we applied our mathematical 
knowledge to the solution of physical problems. 
Many objects of hourly contact had thus a new 
interest and significance imparted to them. The 
swing, the see -saw, the tension of the giant-stride 
ropes, the fall and rebound of the football, the 
advantage of a small boy over a large one when 
turning short, particularly in slippery weather; all 
became subjects of investigation. Supposing a lady 
[ 204 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



to stand before a looking-glass, of the same height 
as herself, it was required to know how much of the 
glass was really useful to the lady ? and we learned, 
with great pleasure, the economic fact that she might 
dispense with the lower half and see her whole 
figure notwithstanding, It was also very pleasant 
to prove the angular velocity of a reflected beam to 
be twice that of the mirror which reflects it ; we also 
felt deep interest in ascertaining from the hum of a bee 
the number of times the little insect flaps its wings in 
a second. Following up our researches upon the pendu- 
lum, we were interested to learn how Colonel Sabine 
had made it the means of determining the figure of 
the earth ; and we were also startled by the inference 
which the pendulum enabled us to draw, that if the 
diurnal velocity of the earth were seventeen times its 
present amount, the centrifugal force at the equator 
would be precisely equal to the force of gravitation, 
and hence an inhabitant of those regions would have 
the same tendency to fall upwards as downwards. 
All these things were sources of wonder and delight 
to us : we could not but admire the perseverance of 
Man which had accomplished so much- and then 
when we remembered that we were gifted with the 
same powers, and had the same great field to work 
in, our hopes arose that at some future day we 
might possibly push the subject a little further, 

[ 205 ] 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



and add our own victories to the conquests al- 
ready won. 

I know I ought to apologize to you for dwelling 
so long upon this subject. But the days I spent 
among these youthful philosophers made a deep im- 
pression on me. I learned among them something 
of myself and of human nature, and obtained some 
notion of a teacher's vocation. If there be one 
profession in England of paramount importance, I 
believe it to be that of the schoolmaster ; and if 
there be a position where selfishness and incompe- 
tence do most serious mischief, by lowering the 
moral tone and exciting contempt and cunning 
where reverence and noble truthfulness ought to 
be the feelings evoked, it is that of the governor of a 
school. When a man of enlarged heart and mind 
comes among boys, — when he allows his being to 
stream through - them, and observes the operation of 
his own character evidenced in the elevation of 
theirs, — it would be idle to talk of the position of 
such a man being honourable. It is a blessed posi- 
tion. The man is a blessing to himself and to all 
around him. Such men, I believe, are to be found 
in England, and it behoves those who busy themselves 
with the mechanics of education at the present day, 
to seek them out. For no matter what means of 
culture may be chosen, whether physical or philolo- 
[ 206 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



gical, success must ever mainly depend upon the 
amount of life, love, and earnestness, which the 
teacher himself brings with him to his vocation.* 

* The following extract from a journal is, I think, too good to be 
omitted here. The writer of it — a pupil of Dirichlet and Steiner — 
would doubtless have felt himself more at home in dealing with 
elliptic functions than with the definitions of Euclid. But the man-- 
ner in which he contrived to render the latter mysteries evident to 
a light-headed little boy, does credit to another faculty than his mere 
mathematical one, and will, I trust, prove as pleasant to the reader 
as it has to me. ' K stammers distressingly, and this has im- 
peded his progress very much. I have often passed him in the class, 
knowing that I could not get any intelligible answer from him, and 
had it not been for his eloquent eyes, which said, ' I know it, Sir, if 
I could but speak,' I might have mistaken him for a dunce, and thus 
done him great injustice. Through his love of mischief, however, 
and his inability to cope with his schoolfellows, on account of his 
defective utterance, it was evident that he was losing interest in his 
work, or rather that he had never felt much interest in it, and it 
became necessary to awaken him. One day, after he had been more 
noisy and mischievous than usual, I told him rather sternly to put 
on his cap and follow me. He did so, and I walked forward, while 
he, in a state of anxious suspense, walked behind me. After some 
moments' silence, I asked, ' Do you know, K — ■ — , what I am going 
to do with you?' ' Ne — ne — ne — no, Sir,' he replied. 'Well,' I 
said, ' I will tell you. I have spoken to you often enough, to no 
purpose, and now I intend to make you do better for the future.' We 
walked forward for some distance, and at length, putting my arm 
quietly around his neck, I broke silence once more. ' Can you tell 
me what an angle is, my boy ?' ' Ye — ye — ye — yes, Sir, an angle is 
a — a — a, — a — ,' he could get no further, and turned his eyes upon 
me beseechingly. 'Well,' I replied to this silent appeal, 'go and 
pull two stalks of grass, and show me what an angle is.' This he 
did, and with the grass stalks continued to answer my questions on 
the geometrical definitions. We turned into a stubble field — by this 
time he had lost all fear, and could speak quite distinctly — 'What 
is a right angled triangle V I asked. ' It has all its angles right 
angles, Sir.' ' Indeed,' I replied, taking my arm from around his 
[ 207 ] 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



Sucli are some of the thoughts which have floated 
before me, in a more or less distracted manner, in 
reference to the present hour; and nobody can be 
more conscious of their manifold imperfections than 
I am myself. Apart from other disadvantages, I 
have had the pressure of various duties interfering 
with the revival of my consciousness upon these 
matters, and thus preventing me from making the 
discourse as true a record of my own experience as I 
could wish it to be. I have throughout been less 
anxious to make out a case for Physics than to state 
the truth ; and I confess that the Lecture of this 
day week causes me to doubt, whether you are not 
entitled to expect from me a more emphatic state- 
ment of the claims of the science which I now repre- 
sent, than that which I have laid before you. When 
I saw your Lecturer reduced to the necessity of 



neck, ' it has three right angles, has it ? will you just kneel down ?' 
He saw his mistake, stammered 'two,' looked at me piteously and 
hesitated. 'On your knees, Sir,' I cried, and he knelt down, while 
I, falling on my knees beside him, said, ' Now pull up some stubble, 
and make me a triangle having either two or three right angles. ' At 
once he saw his error, and the absurdity of our position, as we knelt 
together, making geometrical diagrams with stubble. Springing to 
his feet, he shook with laughter — ' It has only one right angle, Sir — 
only one, of course!' I responded, 'Of course.' With my arm 
round his neck, we turned homewards, and continued our lesson 
successfully. 'This is the punishment I had in store for you,' I said, 
when we reached home. ' Now go, and transgress no more,' to which 
his eyes responded, ' I will, Sir.' ' 

[ »°8 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSICS. 



pleading for science, and meekly claiming for it, 
from the Institution which we are accustomed to 
regard as the highest in this land, a recognition 
equal to that accorded to philology, I confess that 
the effect on me was to excite a certain revolu- 
tionary tendency in a mind which is usually tran- 
quil almost to apathy in these matters. Science 
behind Philology ! The knowledge of the laws by 
which God's universe is sustained, and the perpetual 
advancement of humanity secured, inferior to that 
of the manner in which ancient and savage tribes 
put their syllables together, and express the varieties 
of mood, tense, and case ! As the pole of a magnet 
acting upon soft iron induces in the latter a con- 
dition opposed to its own, so the irrationality of 
those who cast this slight upon Science tends, no 
doubt, to excite an opposite error on the part of their 
antagonists, and to cause them, in retaliation, to un- 
derrate the real merits of Philology. But is there no 
mind in England large enough to see the value of 
both, and to secure for each of them fair play ? Oh ! 
let us not make this a fight of partisans — let the 
gleaned wealth of antiquity be showered into the 
open breast ; but while we ' unsphere the spirit of 
Plato' and listen with delight to the lordly music of 
the past, let us honour by adequate recognition the 
genius of our own time. Let me again remind you 
[ 209 ] 



PROFESSOR TYNDALL 



that tlie claims of that science which finds in me 
to-day its unripened advocate, are the claims of 
God's workmanship upon the attention of his crea- 
tures, and that its exercises, as an agent of culture, 
are based upon the natural relations subsisting 
between Man and the world in which he dwells. 
Here, on the one side, we have the apparently lawless 
shifting of phenomena; on the other side, mind, 
which requires law for its equilibrium, and in obe- 
dience to its own indestructible instincts, believes that 
these phenomena are reducible to law. To chasten 
this apparent chaos is a problem which man's Creator 
has set before him. The world was built in order : 
it is the visual record of the Creator's logic, and to 
us he has trusted the will and power to follow him 
through this great argument. By the manifestations 
of Nature which He has ordained, He appeals to the 
faculties which He has implanted, and surrounds them 
from the cradle to the grave with objects which 
provoke them to inquiry. Descending for a moment 
from this high plea to considerations which lie closer 
to us as a nation — as a land of gas and furnaces, of 
steam and electricity : as a land which science, prac- 
tically applied, has made great in peace and mighty 
in war: — I ask you whether this f land of old and 
just renown/ which may God keep unimpaired, has 
not a right to expect from her institutions a culture 
[ 2I ° ] 



ON THE STUDY OP PHYSICS. 



more in accordance with her present needs than that 
supplied by declension and conjugation ? And if 
the tendency should be to lower the estimate of 
science, by regarding it exclusively as the instrument 
of material prosperity, let it be their high mission to 
furnish the proper counterpoise by pointing out its 
nobler uses, and lifting the national mind to the 
contemplation of it as the last development of that 
' increasing purpose' which runs through the ages 
and widens the thoughts of men. 



[ »n ] 



ON THE 

IMPOETANCE OF THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY 

AS A BEANCH OF EDUCATION 

FOE ALL CLASSES: 



A LECTUEE DELIVERED AT THE EOYAL INSTITUTION 
OE GREAT BRITAIN. 



BY 



JAMES PAGET, F.R.S. 

ASSISTANT-SURGEON AND LECTURER ON PHYSIOLOGY AT 
ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S HOSPITAL. 



ON THE 

IMPOKTANCE OF THE STUDY OF 
PHYSIOLOGY 

AS A BRANCH OF EDUCATION FOR ALL CLASSES. 



TT is my office to submit to you the importance 
-*- of the study of physiology, as a branch of educa- 
tion for all classes; to state the grounds on which 
it seems desirable that every one should learn some- 
what of the structure of the human body, and of the 
processes that are carried on within it, and the laws 
according to which they are governed. 

The advantages to be expected from the general 
teaching of physiology may be grouped in two classes : 
the first, including such as would tend to the pro- 
motion of the science : the second, such as would 
belong to the students. 

By a wider diffusion of the knowledge of physio- 
logy its progress would be accelerated, as that of any 
other science would, by the increased number of the 
competent observers of its facts. 

[ 2i S ] S 2 



MR. PAGET 



But a larger advantage, and one which, I think, 
physiology needs more than any other science does, 
would arise in this ; that the communication would 
be easier, which is now so difficult, between those 
who are engaged in it, and those who specially devote 
themselves to other sciences that might assist it. 
Almost every process in the living body involves the 
exercise of mechanical and chemical — perhaps, also, 
of electrical — forces, whose effects are mingled with 
those of the more proper vital force ; and although 
this special force may modify, and in some sort veil, 
the effects of the others, yet must their influence be 
reckoned and allowed for in nearly every case we 
have to study. Therefore, the complete solution of 
any new physiological problem must require such 
a master of all these sciences of dead and living 
matter as cannot now, I believe, be found, or else it 
must have the co-operation of many workers, each 
skilled in some single science, and able to communi- 
cate with all the rest. Such co-operation is, through 
the present narrowness of teaching, almost impossible. 
The mere chemist, or mechanical, or electrical philo • 
sopher, and the mere physiologist (one, I mean, who 
studies it, chiefly, by anatomy or by direct experi- 
ment), can scarcely so much as understand each 
other's language : they work apart at the same sub- 
ject ; and sometimes even confuse each other, by 
[ 216 ] 



OX THE STUDY OP PHYSIOLOGY. 



showing the same facts in different lights, and ex- 
plained in different and mutually unintelligible terms. 
I know well that it requires nearly all the power of 
a strong mind so to master any of the physical 
sciences, as to be able to investigate its applications 
in the living body; and that, therefore, few could 
hope to be at once excellent in physiology, and in 
any science of dead matter; but the co-operation 
that I speak of would not need more than that the 
skilled workman in each science should understand 
the language, and the chief principles, and modes of 
working, of the rest. I am sure that it is, in great 
measure, through the want of help, such as it might 
hence derive, that the onward steps of physiology 
are so slow, so retarded by backslidings, and by the 
consciousness of insecurity. 

And in yet another way, I believe that the general 
teaching of physiology would insure its more rapid 
progress — namely, by finding out those who are 
especially fit for its study. 

If we mark the peculiar fitness of certain men for 
special callings, who are even below an average 
ability in the common business of life, one might 
imagine some natural design of mutual adaptation 
between things to be done and men to do them; 
and certainly, it were to be wished that a wider 
scheme of education should leave it less to chance 
[ 21 7 ] 



ME. PAGET 



whether a man will fall, or fail to fall, in the way of 
that special work for which he seems designed. 
Really, it has seemed like a chance that has led 
nearly every one of our best physiologists to his 
appropriate work : like a chance, the loss of which 
might have consigned him to a life of failures, or of 
mediocrity, in some occupation for which he had 
neither capacity nor love. 

Such are some of the chief benefits that might 
result to physiology if it were more generally studied. 
I might tell of more ; but I will not do so, nor 
enlarge on these ; for, it might be argued, that it 
would be unjust to tax every one with intellectual 
labour for the advancement of one science, even 
though that science be the foundation of the healing 
art, in whose improvement every one is interested. 
I will rather try to show that, through such labour in 
the study of physiology, every one would gain for 
himself some more direct advantage. 

I believe that even a moderate acquaintance with 
the principles of physiology, acquired in early life, 
would benefit a man, with regard to both his body 
and his mind : and that it would do this by guiding 
him in the maintenance and improvement of health, 
by teaching him the true economy of his powers, 
whether mental or corporeal, by providing worthy 
r 218 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



materials for thought, and by cultivating peculiar 
modes, and suggesting peculiar ends, of thinking. 

But before I attempt to illustrate these things, 
let me meet an objection which is likely to be 
made against any proposal that physiology should 
be a subject of general education, — namely, that 
it cannot be generally taught, because (it is sup- 
posed) its objects are difficult to show, and it re- 
quires dissections and painful experiments for its 
illustration. 

To such objections, the answer is easy : that the 
rudiments of physiology are taught already, largely 
and efficiently, in several schools of both England 
and Scotland. For such instruction, no general 
practice of dissection or of experiments is at all 
necessary. For most of the illustrations, drawings 
would suffice; especially such as those which have 
been constructed with admirable art, and published 
for the use of schools, under the direction of Mr. 
Marshall, of University College, for the Board of 
Trade Department of Science. Other things could 
be well taught with models.* The organs of animals 
might, in some instances, be used; and dried speci- 
mens. Only let there be a demand for the materials 
of such teaching, and I will venture to promise, that 

* Specimens were shown of models of the development of the 
chiek, very accurately executed in wax, from nature, by Mr. Tuson. 

[ 2I 9 ] 



ME. PAGET 



modern art, such as these examples display, will soon 
supply them at no great cost, and without offence to 
the most refined feelings. 

But while I speak of what modern art would do, 
I am bound to add that the teaching of physiology, 
not by representations, but by the very objects of 
its study, was long ago sanctioned by the highest 
and most venerated authority in the land. For, in 
the Museum of the College of Surgeons, there are 
now several beautiful specimens of the chief organs 
of the human body, prepared by John Hunter, which 
formed part of a collection, made at Kew, by his 
Majesty King George III., for the instruction of the 
princes, his sons. 

But if it be admitted that physiology can be gene- 
rally taught, yet some may say that, so far as the 
improvement of health and the economy of power 
are concerned, such teaching is unnecessary; for that, 
to these ends, a man need only follow the guidance 
of nature and of instinct. And, indeed, at first 
thought, it may seem very strange that we should 
want instruction for keeping ourselves in health ; 
strange that man should be left with no natural true 
guidance to so great a good : that man alone, for 
whom the earth seems made, should need mental 
labour to preserve or recover bodily health. Yet so 
it is : for none of our untaught faculties, neither our 
[ 220 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



senses nor our instincts, are sufficient guides to 
good or guards from evil, in even the ordinary con- 
ditions of civilized life. 

The acuteness of our senses is not at all propor- 
tionate to the vital importance of the things that we 
observe with them. They are unable to discern the 
properties, or even the presence, of some of the most 
deadly agents. For example, we have a far keener 
sense of the temperature of the atmosphere than of 
its composition, or fitness for breathing: yet the 
ordinary changes in its temperature concern little 
more than our comfort; those in its composition may 
affect our life. And thus it is that, seeking only the 
comfort of warmth, which their senses can discern, 
men will breathe atmospheres laden with noxious 
gases, which they can scarcely detect till they have 
accumulated to the peril of their lives. 

So with food: we have a keener sense of hunger 
and thirst than of the sufficiency or fitness of our 
foods. We can at once appreciate their flavour, but 
not their nutritive value; and those we most affect 
are not always the most appropriate to our state. 

Our instincts avail us scarcely more. After child- 
hood, in civilized life, the instincts are almost in 
abeyance, and the intellect and instruction have 
a share in the most ordinary acts of life. The sen- 
sations of thirst and hunger impel us instinctively to 
[ 221 ] 



MR. PAGET 



seek tlieir satisfaction; and by instinct we know how 
to do so; but in doing it, we drink in adaptation to 
instruments of intellectual invention; and we eat 
things intellectually cooked, with apparatus of intel- 
lectual art: yes, intellectual, for the meanest piece of 
cookery requires that control and management 
of fire, which no mind lower than the human intel- 
lect has ever reached, and the possession of which 
might alone suffice to prove man's primacy among 
all the creatures of the earth. 

But I need not multiply instances (I will not say 
of the inutility, but) of the insufficiency of our "un- 
taught powers for our guidance, in the commonest 
things of civilized life, relating to our health. Every 
one has suffered from following what has seemed 
some natural guidance, and has learned that we only 
gradually attain some knowledge of these things by 
experience or education; i. e., by the exercise of the 
understanding as well as of the senses. 

If it be asked whether a state of ignorance 
regarding his own health be natural to man, I must 
answer that I suppose Providence has taken ample 
care for his good, in all those things which are of 
natural ordinance and independent of his will: but 
that, for those conditions which he generates or 
incurs by his own power and free-will, he is left by 
the same power to provide. T suppose that men 

[ 222 ] 



ON THE STUDY OP PHYSIOLOGY. 



may, generally, be, like other creatures, aware, by 
sense or instinct, of those things which are for their 
good, when the simplest conditions of their existence 
are undisturbed. But these are not the conditions 
in which we live. Men have disturbed, in successive 
generations, almost every simple and original condi- 
tion of their existence. In every generation, they 
have been striving, with intellectual labour, to add 
to the comforts and luxuries of life, to their control 
of the forces, and their independence of the ordinary 
course, of nature. And many of their successes in 
this strife, being achieved by the disturbance of some 
natural and fit condition of mere subsistence, have 
almost necessarily incurred some consequent evils, 
which have marred, though they may not have neu- 
tralized, the good, and have gradually accumulated 
to our damage. 

If, indeed, in all the improvements of our means 
of life, only half the trouble had been taken to pre- 
vent or remedy the future evil, that was taken to 
attain the present good, our state might have been 
far different. If, for examples, men had been as 
anxious to invent the means of destroying coal-smoke, 
as to gain the myriad benefits of coal-fires; if they 
had thought as much and as soon of constructing 
drains below the ground, as of building above it; as 
much even of clearing out the refuse of our gas-lights, 
[ "3 ] 



ME. PAGET 



as of tempering and diffusing their brilliancy for com- 
fortable use; — then we might have gained unalloyed 
benefits from every such disturbance of the natural 
conditions of life : the vast catalogue of diseases 
appertaining to our social state might have been 
unwritten ; and that which one age hailed as a national 
blessing might not have entailed upon the next 
a national calamity. But this has not been done; 
and thus, from age to age, the evil residues of good 
things have accumulated; the good still, happily, 
preponderating, but the evils such as every man, 
and every society of men, have now to guard against, 
and such as can be averted or counteracted with no 
other human power than that of the intellect 
instructed in the science of health. 

Perhaps, now, the only question is, whether this 
instruction need be given to all, or whether it had 
not better be still left, as it is by present custom, to 
a few, to exercise it in a special profession. I cannot 
doubt that here, as in other cases, for all ordinary 
care, for all habitual management, each man should 
be fit to be his own guardian; while for emergencies, 
and the more unusual events, he should accept and 
be able to choose some more instructed guidance. 
It is not necessary, or likely, that every one who has 
learnt somewhat of the structure of his own body, 
and of the processes carried on in it, should seek to 
[ '"4 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



be his own doctor; not more so than that every one 
who has learnt the construction and principle of a 
steam- engine, should be restless unless he be his own 
engineer. We need not fear a misuse, through 
excessive use, of such physiology as can be generally 
taught. Certainly, if I may speak as one of the 
medical profession, we see greater injury sustained 
through ignorance, than is likely to accrue to imper- 
fect knowledge, whether it be the most timid or the 
most rash. 

And here, when I speak of ignorance, I am obliged 
to say that I do not mean only the state of those 
who are wholly uneducated, but include the state of 
nearly all who have not received some special teach- 
ing. For, really, in regard to all that concerns our 
life and health, it seems as if no amount of general 
education, no clearness of .apprehension for science or 
for the general business of life, were sufficient for 
security against the grossest errors. I will not speak 
of the follies (as I believe them to be), that are now 
regarded as truths, and even useful truths, by gene- 
rally well-instructed, shrewd, and accomplished per- 
sons. I will only say that, at all times, such persons 
have been as ready as the most uneducated to believe 
and submit themselves to practices, which the phy- 
siology even of their own times could prove to be 
gross and mischievous fallacies. In every age, it 
[ 22 5 ] 



ME. PAGET 



has been true that ' the desire of health, like the 
desire of wealth, brings all intellects to the same 
level;' that is, all that have not some special wisdom 
in the art of health or of wealth. 

If now it may be received that physiology should 
be generally studied for the sake of health, it may be 
asked what parts of it should be chiefly taught, and 
in what method ? I might leave this to those who 
are occupied with general education, and with younger 
students than I have had to teach. But considering 
that the large majority of those to whom it would be 
taught are to be engaged, in after life, in pursuits 
alien from science, and that we therefore could not 
hope to do much more than leave general impressions 
such as might abide for general guidance, I feel 
nearly sure that the mere facts of physiology, and 
much more those of anatomy, should be taught in 
subordination to their general principles. 

If I try to illustrate this by an example, I fear 
lest to some I seem almost unintelligible; for I have 
never before lectured except to students or members 
of my own profession, to whom I coidd use technical 
terms, and whom I could suppose to be, in some 
measure, already acquainted with my subject. 

But, for an example, — in relation to the economy 
of power, suppose of muscular power, and thereby 
[ 226 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



in regard to the maintenance of health, it would 
have to he taught, that, in the living body, the 
apparent stability and persistence of its structures is 
due, not to their being literally indestructible, but to 
the constant operation of a process in them, by which 
the particles that decay, or are outworn in the exer- 
cise of their offices, are constantly removed, and 
replaced by new ones like themselves. We know 
that in all the actions of the body, there is waste 
and impairment of the active parts. But though, 
day after day, we exert, even in the common acts of 
life, in walking, feeding, breathing, thinking, talking, 
great amounts of force, and though, with the use of 
force, there is always a proportionate consumption 
of the material of our bodies, yet, year after year 
(at least for many years), we appear to be and feel 
the same: because the consumption, the wear and tear, 
of material, that occurs in the action of our several 
parts, is constantly repaired in the intervals of rest. 

Then, following out this principle, it might be 
shown, that an economy of vital power is commonly 
maintained in the body by the just regulation of 
alternate periods of action and repose; and this 
might be taken as a principle for useful illustration. 

The climax of the exercise of muscular power 
seems to be attained in the heart. Perhaps there 
is nothing, of equal weight, that exerts in the same 
[ "7 ] 



MR. PAGET 



time so large an amount of force as a heart doe3. 
In every second, or oftener, discharging blood from 
its cavities with a force equal to the lifting of a 
weight of from ten to fifteen pounds, it goes on hour 
after hour, and year after year, untired and almost 
unchanged. Now, by the similarity between the 
structure and mode of contraction of the muscular 
fibres of the heart, and those of the muscles over 
which we have control, we may be sure that its fibres 
are subject to the same impairment in their actions 
as theirs are known to be; and that they must need 
the same repair in rest, as the voluntary muscles 
obtain in sleep. But the heart seems never to sleep; 
and we explain the secret of its apparently unceasing 
exercise of power, by referring to its exact rhythm of 
alternating contractions and dilatations; by the fact, 
that every contraction by which it forces blood into 
the vessels, i. e., every act which we can feel as a beat 
or throb, is succeeded by an interval of rest, or 
inaction, of the same length; and by the probability, 
that in each period of inaction (brief as it is), the 
changes that occurred during the contraction are 
repaired. 

It is the same with the muscles for breathing, 

in their ordinary and involuntary exercise. The 

alternation of their action and repose is constant; 

and they too, though exerting forces that are truly 

[ 228 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



enormous, neither waste nor weary themselves; 
because (we may hold) in every period of inaction they 
repair the changes wrought in them by their action. 
Now the principle which is thus illustrated may 
probably be applied to nearly all muscular exertion. 
Whatever work is to be done, the largest amount of 
force may be utilized with the least injury, when 
rest and action are made to be alternate. And this 
is to be observed, not only in that long rest which 
our voluntary muscles have in sleep, but, equally, 
in more active life ; wherein more force is always 
obtained by the alternate action of certain groups 
of muscles, than by the sustained action of any 
single group. Thus, I think, it can be proved that 
there are no voluntary actions in which the human 
body can exercise larger amounts of force than in 
ordinary progression, as in walking or in running. 
And it is because of the alternation of the similar 
acts done by the two halves of the body, and espe- 
cially by the two lower extremities. For if you 
watch a man walking, you will see that each of his 
limbs is doing exactly the opposite to what the 
other is doing, and to what itself has just finished 
doing; and the corresponding muscles are never in 
the same action upon both sides at once : and so if 
one step have been made, say, chiefly, with the 
muscular effort of the right limb, the next will be 
[ 229. ] T 



MR. PAGET 



made with a similar effort of the left, while those of 
the right will have an interval of comparative inaction. 

In some measure, therefore, the principle of alter- 
nate action and repose, typified in the case of the 
heart, is applied here. But it is not so completely 
ohserved; for we tire in walking, even while our 
hearts may he growing more active. This, however, 
is not only because of the motion, but because many 
muscles must be in almost constant exercise for the 
maintenance of the erect posture, and because, pro- 
bably, in these voluntary exercises the rest of a 
muscle is never quite perfect, even in its relaxing state. 

This same principle, of the economy of force in the 
alternation of action and repose, is doubtless true of 
the nervous as of the muscular system ; and on it 
we explain the need of repose, prolonged and deep, 
in direct proportion to the length and intensity of 
mental exercise. On the same principle, we explain 
the refreshment of the mind by change of occupation 
or of the train of thought : so that, while one part of 
the brain is occupied, another may be at rest after its 
work is done. And many like things may be thus 
explained, which it would be w r ell for all to know, but 
chiefly for those who have to teach, and who need 
to regulate their pupils' mental exercises with the 
best economy they can. 

There is another class of organs in which the 

[ 2 3° ] 



ON THE STUDY OP PHYSIOLOGY. 



alternations of action and rest, of waste and repair, 
appear essential to the full exercise and economy of 
power. The stomach is one of these ; and a know- 
ledge of the method of its office of digestion might 
prevent somewhat of its almost universal misuse. 

Its chief office in digestion is to produce a peculiar 
fluid which, mingling with the food, may, by a process 
similar to fermentation, reduce it to solution or to 
a state of extremely minute division. This fluid, 
the gastric or digestive fluid, does not merely ooze 
from the blood ; but is so formed in minute cells, 
that, for each minutest microscopic drop of it, a cell, 
of complex structure, must be developed, grow, and 
hurst or be dissolved. 

A diagram would very well show how the lining 
membrane of the stomach is formed, almost entirely, 
of minute tubes, set vertically in its thickness, like 
little flasks or test-tubes, close-packed and upright. 
The outer walls of these are webbed-over with net- 
works of most delicate blood-vessels, carrying streams 
of blood. Within, the same tubes contain cells, and 
those among them which chiefly secrete the digestive 
fluid are nearly filled with cells, which have taken 
materials from the blood, and from those materials 
have formed themselves and their contents. In 
what way they have done this, we cannot tell : but 
we can tell that the process is one of complicate 
[ 231 ] T 2 



ME. PAGET 



though speedy development and growth; even such 
a process as that by which, more slowly, the body 
grows, or any of its parts, — the hair or the nails, or 
any other that we can best watch. The act of 
secretion or production of this fluid is, literally, the 
growth and dissolution of the minute cells which, 
though they be very short-lived, yet must need a 
certain time for their complete elaboration. 

If this be so, it must follow, that we cannot, with 
impunity, interfere with that which seems a natural 
rule, of allowing certain intervals between the several 
times of feeding. Every act of digestion involves 
the consumption of some of these cells : on every 
contact of food, some must quickly perfect them- 
selves, and yield up their contents ; and without 
doubt, the design of that periodical taking of food, 
which is natural to our race, is that, in the intervals, 
there may be time for the production of the cells 
that are to be consumed in the next succeeding acts 
of digestion. We can, indeed, state no constant 
rule as to the time required for such constructions : 
it probably varies according to age, and the kind 
of food, and the general activity or indolence of life, 
and, above all, according to habit; but it may be 
certainly held, that when the times are set, they 
cannot, with impunity, be often interfered with ; and, 
as certainly, that continual or irregular feeding is 
[ 232 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



wholly contrary to the economy of the human 
stomach. And yet snch constant feeding is a fre- 
quent custom — not infrequent among the adult rich, 
but most frequent among the infants of the poor, 
for whom food is the solace of every grief. 

I would thus try to teach general principles of 
physiology; and with such principles there might 
easily be combined some useful rules for prudence 
in the ordinary management of personal or social 
health, and in the habitual exercise of power. 

I will not venture to say that it is only by teaching 
physiology that prudence can be taught; for even 
in the cases I have cited, physiology teaches no other 
rule than nature and experience had already indi- 
cated. Still, even in regard to those rules, when it 
shows their reason and their meaning, it gives them 
strength, and it enlists the power of the under- 
standing against the overbearing of inclination and 
bad habit. And so, though it might be impossible 
to teach more than a small part of the whole body 
of physiology, yet one who had learned even this 
part would have a better apprehension of the rest 
than one untaught could have. One who had 
learned the general mode of study, and the labour 
which is spent in ascertaining physiological truths, 
and the great probability that what is generally 
accepted is at least nearly true, would, more than 
[ 233 ] 



MR. PAGET 



an untaught man, act on the advice of those who are 
instructed. Thus acting, he would, as a citizen, be 
no hinderer of improvements, no block of utter 
ignorance in the way of amending the sanitary 
condition of his fellows : with belief, if not with 
knowledge, he would give his help to good. And 
for his own guidance, such an one, though only 
partially instructed, would be a far better judge than 
most men are of the probable value of professed 
discoveries in medicine j he would be doubtful of all 
unreserved assertions ; wisely incredulous of all 
results supposed to flow from apparently incompetent 
sources. Even the desire of health would bear fre- 
quent disappointment, before it would induce him to 
commit himself to the daring promises of ignorance. 

I have said that we might anticipate advan- 
tages to the mind, as well as to >i;he bodily health, 
from making physiology a branch of general educa- 
tion. And some of these advantages must not be 
widely separated from those of which I have been 
speaking : for they are, in truth, closely corre- 
spondent, derived from the same source and by the 
same method. The health of the mind, so far as it 
is within our own control, is subject to the same 
laws as is the health of the body. For the brain, the 
organ of the mind, grows and is maintained according 

[ 2 34 ] 



ON THE STUDY OP PHYSIOLOGY. 



to the same method of nutrition as every other part 
of the body ; it is supplied by the same blood ; and 
through the blood, like every other part, may be 
affected for good or ill by the various physical influ- 
ences to which it is exposed. But I will not dwell 
on this, more than to assert, as safely deducible from 
physiology, that no scheme of instruction, or of 
legislation, can avail for the improvement of the 
human mind, which does not provide with equal care 
for the well-being of the human body. Deprive 
men of fresh air, and pure water, of the light of 
heaven, and of sufficient food and rest, and as surely 
as their bodies will become dwarfish, and pallid, 
and diseased, so surely will their minds degenerate 
in intellectual and moral power. 

But let me suppose that these needs of the body 
may be happily within men's reach ; and then I may 
speak of the advantages that would accrue, from the 
general study of physiology, in the mental culture it 
would provide. 

I again remind myself that the cases to be kept in 
view are not only those of men who are to be chiefly 
occupied with science, but those of persons who are 
to pursue the various common businesses of life ; and 
upon whose minds we cannot expect that those studies 
of their school-time, which would be widely different 
from the occupations of their later life, will do more 
[ 2 35 J 



MR. PAGET 



tlian leave general impressions, and impart an habitual 
method and tone of thought. To such persons, I 
believe that the study of physiology would be useful, 
first, on the general ground, that they who can, with 
most force, apply themselves to any business in life (be 
it what it may) are those whose minds are disciplined 
and informed in all their parts, so as to be not only 
full and strong, but pliant, liberal, and adaptive. 

Now, there are some characters in physiology by 
means of which its study might affect the mind, or 
certain parts of it, differently from any portions of 
even that enlarged education which it is the object 
of this whole course of lectures to recommend. 

One of these is, that it is occupied with things of 
admitted incompleteness and uncertainty. In other, 
and especially in the physical, sciences, I think it is 
only the master, or the advanced student, who is 
impressed with their uncertainty. In them, speak- 
ing generally, that which is taught admits of clear 
proof; and imperfection is not spoken of, except, as 
it were, at the distant boundaries of a vast body of 
truth. But, in physiology, the teacher would need 
everywhere to mark the imperfections of his know- 
ledge ; in the very rudiments, he must speak of things 
as only, in various degrees, probable. 

Some of my predecessors in this course have 
shown how much the value of the physical sciences 
[ 236 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



lies in the possibility of proving what is held in 
them, and in the precision of the mental exercises 
which they thus demand and cultivate ; and no one 
can be more conscious than I am that, on this 
account, they are indispensable elements of sound 
education. But I believe, also, that it would be 
right to mingle with this study that of a much more 
incomplete and uncertain science. I think it would 
be good, at least for some minds, to know in early 
life how much has yet to be done in science ; so that 
some through ambition of discovery, some through 
love of enterprise, some through mere curiosity, 
might be excited to work among the stores of un- 
explored knowledge that would be pointed out to 
them. It is strange how early, and how strong in 
early life, these ambitions of discovery and invention 
arise ; and I suppose that, in all later life, there are 
no enjoyments more keen, or more invigorating to 
the mind, than those felt in boyhood, when such an 
ambition is gratified; — whether by the finding of 
some plant unknown before in the home- district, or 
by the invention of some new appliance to a toy, 
imitating what men deal with, or, — it matters not by 
how trivial a thing. I would not venture to say how 
large a part such ambition should be allowed to have 
among the motives to study, but I think it should 
not be quite suppressed, or starved, as it is by teach- 
[ 237 ] 



ME. PAGET 



ing only such things as are already proved, or decided 
by authority. 

And, perhaps, yet another advantage would flow 
from the teaching of physiology, honestly and ex- 
pressly, as a very incomplete and uncertain science. 
It is a great hindrance to the progress of truth, that 
some men will hold, with equal tenacity, things that 
are, and things that are not, proved ; and even things 
that, from their very nature, do not admit of proof. 
They seem to think (and ordinary education might 
be pleaded as justifying the thought) that a plain 
* yes' or ' no' can be answered to every question that 
can be plainly asked; and that everything thus an- 
swered is a settled thing, and to be maintained as a 
point of conscience. I need not adduce instances of 
this error, while its mischiefs are manifest everywhere 
in the wrongs done by premature and tenacious 
judgments. 

I am aware that these are faults of the temper, 
not less than of the judgment ; but we know how 
much the temper is influenced by the character of 
our studies ; and I think if any one were to be free 
from this over-zeal of opinion, it should be one who 
is early instructed in an uncertain science, such as 
physiology. He might receive, with reverent sub- 
mission, all revealed truth ; he might bend unques- 
tioning to the declarations of teachers authorized to 
[ 23S ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



promulgate positive commandments; but his habit 
of thinking how soon all inquiries concerning living 
things end in uncertainty, his experience of the ex- 
ceeding difficulty of settling for ever even a small 
matter, would make him very scrupulous in accepting 
as completely proved, very slow in making a point 
of conscience of, anything that may be made a matter 
of reasonable discussion or of further study. 

Let me repeat, that I do not hold that it is bene- 
ficial to study only or chiefly such a science as this, 
whose principles scarcely admit of full proof. I 
know too well the danger of resting satisfied with 
error, Avhen truth cannot be quite attained. But I 
lecture only as one of many, advocating the import- 
ance of as many different branches of study; and I 
think that the early study of uncertainties might 
well be mingled with that of things which may be 
proved beyond all doubt. 

But I have yet to speak of that through which, I 
believe, the general teaching of physiology would 
exercise the greatest influence upon the mind ; 
namely, its being, essentially, a science of designs 
and final causes. In this (if we regard it in its full 
meaning, as the science concerning living things) it 
is chiefly in contrast with the physical sciences, and, 
so far as I know, with nearly all the other studies of 
even the widest scheme of education. 
[ =39 ] 



MR. PAGET 



I do not say that it is only in living things that 
we can discern the evidences of design. Doubtless, 
things that are dead — things that we call inorganic, 
when we would distinguish them from living organ- 
isms — are yet purposive, and mutually adapted to 
co-operate in the fulfilment of design. We cannot 
doubt, for example, that all the parts of this dead 
earth, and all the members of our planetary system, are 
adapted to one another with mutual influence; balanced 
and laid out in appropriate weight and measure; 
fitted each to do its part, and serve its purpose, 
in some vast design. And thus the whole universe 
might be called an organism ; constructed in parts 
and systems, almost infinite in number and variety, 
but adjusted with an all-pervading purpose. Still, 
there is a striking difference between dead and living 
things, in the degree and manner in which their laws 
and their designs are manifest to us. In the inor- 
ganic world, in the studies of the physical sciences, 
we seem to come nearer to the efficient, than to the 
final, causes of events : we discern, it may be, both the 
most general laws, and the most minute details of the 
events ; but these rarely shadow forth their purpose 
or design ; or, if they do, it is a design in adaptation 
to organic life, as where we may trace the fitness of 
the earth and air for their living occupants. But, in 
the inorganic world, the reverse is true : purpose, 

[ 2 40 ] 



ON THE STUDY OP PHYSIOLOGY. 



design, and mutual fitness are manifest wherever we 
can discern the structure or the actions of a part ; 
utility and mutual dependence are implied in all the 
language, and sought in all the studies, of physiology. 
The efficient causes and the general laws of the vital 
actions may be hidden from the keenest search; but 
their final causes are often nearly certain. In the 
sciences of the inorganic world, we can learn how 
changes are accomplished, but we can rarely tell why 
they are : in those of the organic world, the question 
' why' can be often answered, the question ' how 5 is 
generally an enigma that we cannot solve. 

Now, were there no other argument for the general 
teaching of physiology, I would be content with this ; 
that an education which does not include the teach- 
ing of some science of natural designs, does not 
provide for the instruction of one of the best powers 
and aspirations of the mind. 

The askings of children seem to indicate a natural 
desire after the knowledge of the purposes fulfilled in 
nature. ' Why?' and ' Of what use V are the ends of 
half their untutored questions ; and we may- be sure 
they have not the wish for such knowledge without the 
power of attaining it, if the needful help be given them. 
And yet, in the usual subjects of education, nothing 
addresses itself to this desire, and so there is not only 
a neglect of the teaching of the peculiar modes of 
[ 241 ] 



MK. PAGET 



reasoning required, or admitted, in physiological 
research; but the natural love and capacity for 
studying design are left to spend themselves, un- 
trained, upon unworthy objects ; and so they fade 
or degenerate — degenerate, perhaps, into some such 
baseness as an impertinent curiosity about other 
men's matters. 

I would therefore have physiology taught to all, 
as a study of God's designs and purposes achieved ; 
as a science for which our natural desire after the 
knowledge of final causes seems to have been destined; 
a science in which that desire, though it were infi- 
nite, might be satisfied ; and in which, as with perfect 
models of beneficence and wisdom, our own faculties 
of design may be instructed. I would not have its 
teaching limited to a bare declaration of the use and 
exact fitness of each part or organ of the body. This, 
indeed, should not be omitted; for there are noble 
truths in the simplest demonstrations of the fitness 
of parts for their simplest purposes, and no study 
has been made more attractive than this by the in- 
genuity, the acuteness, and eloquence of its teachers. 
But I would go beyond this, and striving, as I said 
before, to teach general truths as well as the details 
of science, I would try to lead the mind to the con- 
templation of those general designs, from which it 
might gather the best lessons for its own guidance. 
[ 242 ] 



ON THE STUDY OP PHYSIOLOGY. 



If I may presume to speak as I would to boys or 
girls, I would say let us learn frugality from some of 
the designs that we can study in the living body; 
and surely the lesson may be the more impressive, if 
we remember that we are studying the frugality of 
One whose power and materials are infinite. 

Observe, for example, what happens during active 
exercise; how the heart beats quicker and harder 
than it did before, and the skin grows warmer and 
ruddier, and the blood moves faster, and the breathing 
is quicker. The main design of this seems to be 
that the active muscles may be the more abundantly 
supplied with blood. But the beginning in the series 
of changes is an instance of that designed frugality 
of which I have been speaking. Veins, carrying 
blood to the heart, lie, as you see, branching and 
communicating under the skin ; and there are others 
like them deeper set among the muscles of both the 
limbs and the trunk. Now, muscles, when they act, 
shorten and swell-up : and in so doing (as in active 
exercise), they compress the veins that lie between 
them, or upon them underneath the skin. The effect 
of such compression must be to press the blood in 
every vein, equally in both directions, — both onwards 
towards the heart, and backwards from it. All that 
part of this pressure which is effective in propelling 
the blood towards the heart is so much added to the 
[ 2 43 ] 



MR. PAGET 



forces of the circulation ; it is so much direct gain of 
force. But it may seem as if this gain were balanced 
by an equal loss, through the influence of the same 
pressure driving other portions of the blood backwards. 
And so it would be, but for the arrangement of valves 
in the veins, which are the instruments of this saving 
of force. Wherever there are muscles that in their 
action can compress the veins, there, also, the veins 
have valves ; and a diagram or a model would show 
that these are little pocket-shaped membranes, which 
project into the canals of the veins, in such a manner 
that they will allow the streams of blood to pass 
onwards to the heart, but will close at once and hinder 
any stream that would now backwards. Thus, there- 
fore, the effect of muscular pressure on the veins is 
(let us say), with a certain force, to propel some blood 
towards the heart, and with the same force to press 
back other blood upon the valves and close them. 
You will say, then, here is still the same hindrance : 
if the valves be closed, the stream behind them must 
be stopped, and there is as much loss as gain. It 
would be so, if there were not this other provision ; 
that wherever there can be muscular pressure upon 
veins, those veins not only have valves, but have 
abundant channels of communication with one another. 
The back-pressure of the blood, and the closure of 
the valves, is therefore no hindrance to the circulation; 
[ 2 44 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



for the blood, that might be stopped in one vein, 
makes its way at once into another by some commu- 
nicating branch. The general result, therefore, is, 
that all muscular pressure upon veins is an almost 
unalloyed advantage to the circulation. And now 
mark the frugality of the design. Veins must lie 
in or near these places, and the muscles must act 
(suppose for some design of our own) ; and if they 
are to be in very active exercise, they will need swifter 
streams of blood than will suffice in their repose. 
The streams could be made swifter by a greater force 
of the heart • but heart-force is a thing to be econo- 
mized; and the muscles themselves may, without 
harm, contribute to accelerate the blood; for in the 
fulfilment of their primary purpose, of moving and 
sustaining the limbs and trunk, they must swell-up, 
and compress the veins that are about them ; and this 
compression can be made effective for the circulation 
of the blood by the mechanism of valves. So then, 
in the necessary fulfilment of their primary use, and 
without the least hindrance or damage to it, the 
muscles are made to serve this secondary purpose; and 
all that they do herein is so much saved to the forces 
of the heart. 

Scarcely a lesson in physiology could be given but 
it might illustrate some such design as this. Every- 
where we see examples of parts thus made to 
[ 245 ] u 






MR. PAGET 



serve bye-purposes while fulfilling their primary 
designs. 

I will mention but one more. All know that the 
air we have once breathed is less fit for breathing 
than it was before, and that if we breathe the same 
air often it becomes poisonous, through the mixture 
of the carbonic acid and other exhalations from the 
lungs. We must breathe out the air, therefore, as so 
much refuse ; and ample provision is made that we 
may do so ; and it might seem design enough fulfilled 
when we are thus freed from our own poison. But 
is it not an admirable secondary design, an admirable 
frugality, a true wisdom by-the-way, that, with this 
same air, we speak ; that this, which we must cast 
out lest it destroy us, should be used for one of the 
noblest powers of man? Surely, one might have 
supposed, for so great a purpose as the communion of 
human thoughts, and for all that speech and vocal 
melody can achieve, there would be contrived some 
matchless instrument, some rare material. But no: 
the instruments of human speech are scarcely more 
complex organs than those which dumb creatines 
have to breathe and feed with; and the material for 
human speech carries-out the refuse of the blood; 
the very dross of the body is used for the coinage of 
the mind. 

Such might be some lessons in that Divine frugality 
[ H6 ] 



OKT THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



which is ever ' gathering up the fragments that remain, 
that nothing be lost/ The moral of such lessons is 
very plain. 

Not less significant are those which may be studied 
in the designs of the body during its development. 
All these are instances of present things having their 
true purpose in some future state. 

Let me endeavour to illustrate some of them. 

I have here models of the changes that the chick 
undergoes in its development; and what they show 
might suffice for teaching the development of higher 
creatures. Now, nearly all we see here is the work- 
ing out of a design, which cannot have its full end till 
some future time. These wings and legs — of what 
avail are they to the prisoner in the shell ? Their 
purpose is not yet fulfilled ; they are for the future. 
But if these be too plain to be impressive, let us look 
at more particular things. 

Observe the changes through which the heart 
passes, from its first appearance as a little pulsating 
bag, to its being nearly fit for the time when the 
hatched bird will breathe in the open air. The 
changes are not merely a growth from a little heart 
to a big one; but are a series of acquirements of 
more complex shapes; so that the heart, which at 
first is a simple bag, then becomes very curved, and 
then divides into two, and then into three and four, 
[ 247 ] u 2 



MR. PAGET 



cavities. Now, doubtless, in each of these conditions, 

the heart is exactly appropriate to the contemporary 

state of the other organs, and the circumstances of 

the time of life ; hut each of them is, besides, a 

necessary stage of transition towards that more per- 
- 
feet state, that fitness for more complex duties, which 

the heart attains when the bird is born to breathe 

with lungs in the open air. 

But I would descend yet lower, and, magnifying 
the wonders of these plans for the future, by diminish- 
ing (as it may seem to some) the importance of the 
objects in which they are displayed, would trace the 
development of a single blood-cell in a tadpole — i. e., 
in the young fish-like embryo of a frog, such as nearly 
every pool would supply in the spring-time, and such 
as magnified sketches would fully illustrate. 

By a blood-cell, T mean one of those microscopic 
particles by which the blood is coloured red : par- 
ticles so minute that, in our own blood, about ten 
millions might lie on a square inch of surface. 

In the earliest period of active life of these tadpoles, 
the little black and fish-like body is composed almost 
wholly of minute cells ; among which you can trace, 
with even powerful microscopes, scarce any difference. 
You could not tell the future destiny of any of them 
by their present characters; they look all alike. 
But presently, as they increase in number, a differ- 
[ 248 ] 



ON THE STUDY OP PHYSIOLOGY. 



encing begins among them, and a sorting of them; and 
some arrange themselves for a spinal column, and 
some for muscles; and some are seen to be placed 
where the first streams of blood are to run; and 
some are clustered where the heart will be. At 
first, those that are to be blood-cells are round, and 
darkly shaded, and contain yellowish particles, many 
of which are like four-sided crystals of some fatty 
substance. But, in a day or two, the cells begin to 
move and circulate in the channels in which they 
were arranged; and then, as we watch them day by 
day, they gradually change. The particles within 
them become smaller and less numerous, and collect 
near to their borders; while their centres, clearing up, 
show an enclosed smaller body or nucleus. More- 
over, as these changes proceed, the cells which were 
before colourless, acquire gradually a deeper and 
deeper blood-tint, and exchange their round for an 
oval shape; till, by the time that all the particles they 
first contained are cleared away, as if by solution, they 
have become perfect blood-cells, nearly like those which 
colour the blood of the completely developed frog. 

The time required for these changes depends much 
on the temperature and degree of light to which the 
creature is exposed. It may vary from one to three 
or more weeks ; and we can thus deliberately watch 
the development of a blood-cell, day by day, until it 
[ s 49 ] 



MR. PAGET 



readies that which we may call its perfection. In 
this state the cells abide for a tirne, unchanging; 
and then decline and give place to another set of 
blood-cells, each of which is developed through a 
series of changes different, indeed, from those that I 
have described, but not less numerous or complex. 

Now, such is the life, up to the period of per- 
fection, of every blood-cell in this trivial creature. 
And so it is in ourselves. Of the millions of those 
cells that colour our blood, not one reaches its per- 
fection but through changes as numerous and great 
as these. 

Perhaps the wonder is augmented if we think that, 
in the embryo, the changes proceed, with equal steps, 
in all the cells at once : there is exact concert among 
them ; if I may so speak, they all keep time. Nor 
is the harmony limited to them: for their develop- 
ment is exactly adjusted to that of every other part; 
successive changes are exactly concurrent in every 
part at once ; so that, though all are continually 
changing, they never lose their mutual fitness. 

I might cite more instances of these plans for 
futurity ; but they are nearly infinite ; for in truth 
(and what a moral there is in such a truth !) in 
the living world, nothing is made at once fit for the 
highest purposes of which it may be capable. In all 
the countless crowds of living beings, — in all the 
[ 2 5o ] 



OX THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



countless particles of each, — there is not one but in 
the history of its life we may read a gradual attain- 
ment of its highest destiny : not one but has a time 
in which its true purpose is yet future, its true de- 
sign yet unfulfilled ; and, although, even in its rudi- 
ment, it is not useless, yet there will be a time 
when, with higher powers, it will take part in the 
designs of some more perfect state. So wide is that 
law, which has its highest instance in the history and 
future destiny of man himself. 

But the evidence of the design of living bodies 
for conditions that are yet future, seems to culminate 
in the proofs of their capacity to repair injuries, and 
to recover from diseases. 

It is surely only because it is so familiar, that we 
think lightly, if at all, of the fact that living bodies 
are capable of repairing most of the injuries they 
may sustain; and that, in this capacity, they show 
that provision has been made in them, for events of 
which it is not certain whether they will ever occur 
to them or not. When we contemplate the perfect 
living body, — the exact fitness of every part for its 
office, not as an independent agent, but as one whose 
work must be done in due proportion with that of 
many others, is a very marvellous thing; but it 
seems much more marvellous that, in the embryo, 
[ 2 5 x ] 



MR. PAGET 



each of these parts "was made fit for offices and 
relations that were then future ; but surely more 
marvellous than all it is, that each of these, when 
perfect, should still have capacity for right action in 
events that are not only future, but unlikely; that 
are indeed possible, but are in only so low a degree 
probable, that if ever they happen they will be called 
accidents — as things not to be expected or provided for. 

Let me describe a process of repair, and describe 
it so simply, as it might be to school-boys. 

All know, or can feel, their Achilles -tendons 
behind their ancles, and that these, strong as they 
are, are sometimes broken by a violent contraction 
of their muscles. I know not how small — how 
almost infinitely small — the chance is that any given 
man, or quadruped, would ever break this or any 
other part ; but small as the chance may be, ample 
provision is made for its repair. How this is accom- 
plished may be again illustrated by diagrams. 

When the tendon in such an animal as a rabbit 
is divided, its pieces separate to nearly an inch apart, 
the upper piece being drawn up by the unrestricted 
action of its muscles. The muscles, no longer fast- 
ened by the tendon to the heel- bone, are thus ren- 
dered useless; and the object of the reparative 
process must be to form a bond of connexion between 
the separated pieces of the tendon. 

[ 2 52 ] 



ON THE STUDY OP PHYSIOLOGY. 



Iii the two days following such an injury, all the 
structures between and around the ends of the divided 
tendon appear soaked with a half- liquid substance, the 
product of inflammation. And thus far we see no 
plan for uniting- the separated pieces; there is no 
more of this new substance in the line between them 
than there is around them ; and all the new substance 
appears alike. But in the course of two days more, 
we find that fresh material is deposited between the 
separated pieces of the tendons, and that it is firmer 
than that around, and has firm hold on the ends of 
the separated pieces, and connects them, though as 
yet (if I may so say), only clumsily. After this, 
however, each day finds the connecting substance 
becoming firmer, tougher, and more like the texture 
of the tendon itself. Each day, too, it becomes more 
defined from the surrounding parts ; and this it does, 
not only because itself becomes more exactly shaped, 
but because they regain their natural texture. And 
observe the distinct design which is shown in this 
contrast. At first, all the parts at and about the seat of 
injury were soaked with a similar material ; but now, 
that portion of this material, which lay in the place 
for the formation of the connecting bond, has re- 
mained and contributed to the repair; but that 
portion of it which was more remote, and could 
serve no useful purpose, has been cleared away. 
[ *53 ] 



MR. PAGET 



At the end of a week, in the rabbit, a complete 
cord-like bond of union is formed, and the muscles 
can act again. By this time, too, the bond has 
gained nearly the perfect texture and the toughness 
of the original tendon. I once tried the strength of 
such a bond of connexion, which had been form- 
ing for ten days after the division of the Achilles- 
tendon of a young rabbit. Having removed it from 
the dead body, I suspended weights upon it, and, 
after bearing weights of twenty, thirty, forty, and 
fifty pounds, it was at length broken by a weight of 
fifty-six pounds. But surely the strength it showed 
was very wonderful, if we remember that it was not 
more than the sixth of an inch in its greatest thick- 
ness, and that it was wholly formed in ten days, in the 
leg of a rabbit scarcely more than a pound in weight. 

I might illustrate the process of repair by in- 
stances as perfect as these, observed after injuries of 
many, almost of any, parts. And I might, as in the 
instance of development, magnify its excellence by 
showing it in what we are apt to call trivial creatures, 
or even by showing that, in general, those lower 
species of animals, that have least means of escape or 
defence from mutilation, appear to be endowed with 
the most ample powers of repair. But time will not 
permit this, nor yet that I should show how many 
lessons of practical utility might be engrafted on the 
[ 2 £4 ] 



OX THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



teaching of a process such as this, or how the main 
principles of the surgery of injuries are based on the 
recognition of the natural power of recovery. Nearly 
its whole practice consists in the prevention of any 
interference with that to which there is, in the very 
nature of the body, as great a tendency, as there is 
for the embryo to be developed into the perfect 
creature. Using the facts of the reparative process 
only for the present purpose of showing how physi- 
ology might be taught as the chief science of designs, 
I would say that the arguments of design, which are 
here displayed, are such as cannot be impugned by 
the suspicion, that the events among which each 
living thing is cast have determined its adaptation 
to them; because the adaptations here noted prove 
capacities for things that are future, and only not 
impossible. 

I will mention but one more instance of general 
design, which I think should not be omitted in the 
teaching of physiology to whatever class of students : 
— that, namely, of the adaptation of animals in their 
decay ; how, as they do not live, so neither do they 
decay or die, for themselves alone, but ministering 
to others' good. 

The chief evidence of this is in the provision that 
the decaying parts of animals yield the materials 
from which the vegetable kingdom derives its chief 



[ 2 S5 ] 



MR. PAGET 



supply of food. In the ordinary decomposition of 
the dead body, many of the products are the very 
materials from which, as they are mingled with the 
earth and atmosphere, each plant takes its food. 
But it is not alone through this decay in death, that 
animals restore to the vegetable world the materials 
which they have, for their own food, derived from it. 
The same rule is fulfilled in the decay of life ; i. e., 
in those changes which occur when the particles of 
the animal body, having served their purpose, or 
lived their full time in it, are then to be cast out as 
refuse. For in all these changes, which are a part 
of that constant mutation of particles through which 
the body remains, through all the time of vigorous 
life, the same, though continually changing, — in all 
these, the material which is passing out, as refuse, 
gradually approximates, in its transition, to the in- 
organic state of matter. It is so with the carbonic 
acid and other exhalations from the lungs and skin, 
and with ail the class of substances excreted. And 
thus, every form of degeneration or decay, whether in 
life or after death, may be described as a series of 
changes, through which the elements of organic 
bodies, instead of being on a sudden and Avith 
violence dispersed, are gradually collected into those 
lower combinations in which they may best rejoin 
the inorganic world; they are such changes, that 
[ 256 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



every creature may be said to decay and die and cast 
out its refuse in the form which may best fit it to 
discharge its share in the economy of the world, — 
either by supplying nutriment to other organisms, 
or by taking its right part in the adjustment of the 
balance held between the organic and inorganic 
-iaassest bovhol) 
<.s .'* ; yfil lo i? id b-AUWifi jiur,* •nlT 

I hare thus endeavoured to fulfil my office, and 
to show how the general teaching of physiology 
might do good among its students. I think its 
advantages are such as might be apprehended by 
students of all classes in society. I suppose, 
too, that, for all that part of it which can be 
applied in the maintenance of health the merit 
of utility would be admitted; and that, in general 
terms, it would be allowed that the study of designs 
and final causes should be mingled with other studies 
in any scheme of education by which it is proposed 
that the whole mind should be disciplined, and all 
modes of reasoning should be taught. 

But still, the question may be asked, is it possible 
that knowledge such as this, of the methods of 
design, will rest, with any influence, in a mind that 
must be engrossed in urgent business, or in house- 
hold cares; harassed, perhaps, in struggles against 
poverty, or dissipated in the luxuries of wealth ? It 
[ *57 ] 



MR. PAGET 



may be very v/ell (some will say) to teach these 
things to the young, but men and women have other 
works and other pleasures to pursue. 

1 know all this; and I have overshot my mark if 
I have urged any teaching of which the effects would 
interfere with devotion to the necessary works of 
ater life. But I suppose that, if any one will watch 
his thoughts for a few days, or even a few hours, he 
will find that, however engrossing may be his cares 
or his pleasures, however earnest his attention to 
what seems his most urgent need, there are yet 
intermingling trains of thought quite alien from 
these : — trains into which the mind falls, it knows 
not how, but in which it will wander as if resolute 
to refresh itself. Now these must be provided for; 
and so it must be an object of all education to 
supply, in early life, those studies from which, in 
later years, may arise reflections that may mingle 
happily with the business-thoughts of common days ; 
that may suggest to the reason, or even to the 
imagination, some hidden meaning, some future 
purpose, some noble end, in the things about us. 
Reflections such as these, being interwoven with our 
common thoughts, may often bring to our life a tone 
of joy, which its general aspect would not wear; 
like brilliant threads shot through the texture of 
some sombre fabric, giving lustre to its darkness. 

[ 2 S 8 ] 



ON THE STUDY OF PHYSIOLOGY. 



But besides this happy influence of the general 
impressions that might remain in the mind from the 
early teaching of physiology, I claim for it the hope 
that its principles might read to some minds lessons 
of the truest wisdom. 

The student of Nature's purposes should surely 
he averse from leading a purposeless existence. 
Watching design in everything around him, he 
could not fail, one would think, to reflect often on 
the purpose of his own existence. And doing so, if 
his mind were imbued with the knowledge of the 
mutual fitness in which all the members of his body, 
and all the parts of the whole organic world, sub- 
sist and minister to each other's good, he could not 
conclude that he exists for his own sake alone, or 
that happiness would be found separate from the 
offices of mutual help and of universal good-will. 
One who is conversant with things that have a pur- 
pose in the future, higher than that which they 
have yet fulfilled, would never think that his own 
highest destiny is yet achieved. Though his place 
among men might be only like that of a single par- 
ticle — like that of a single blood-cell of the body — 
yet would he strive to concur, and take his share, in 
all progressive good. Nor would he count that, 
with this life ended, his purpose would be attained ; 
but by teaching, or by record, or by some other 
[ 2 S9 ] 



ON THE STUDY OP PHYSIOLOGY. 

of those means, through which, in the history of our 
race, things that in their rudiments seemed trivial 
have been developed into great results, he would 
strive to l achieve at least some useful work, the 
fruit whereof might abide/ Conscious of an immortal 
nature, and of desires and capacities for knowledge, 
which cannot be satisfied in this world, he would be 
sure that the great law of progress, from a lower to 
a higher state, would not be abrogated in the Divine 
government of that part of him which cannot perish, 
and is not yet perfect. In him, even the under- 
standing would be assured that, ' as we have borne 
the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the 
image of the heavenly;' for that is the true lesson of 
development. 

And because it abounds in lessons such as these, 
I claim for physiology the pre-eminence among all 
sciences, for the clear and full analogies which it 
displays between truths natural and revealed : and I 
would teach it everywhere; looking to its help, by 
these analogies, to prove the concord between know- 
ledge and belief, and to mediate in the ever-pending 
conflict of intellect and faith. 



[ 260 ] 



T r, I0 YQ JT3 HHT "ZO 

iWuIyt il-guo'isb grrnom osoili' 1o 
il)in -nodi iii ^urfl eg/mft t ooxn 

ON THE 

IMPOETANCE OF THE STUDY OF ECONOMIC 

SCIENCE AS A BEANCH OF EDUCATION 

FOE ALL CLASSES: 



A LECTUKE DELIVEEED AT THE EOYAL INSTITUTION 
OF GEEAT BEITAIN. 



BY 



W. B. HODGSON, LL.D. 



' Ignorance does not simply deprive us of advantages ; it leads us 
to work our own misery ; it is not merely a vacuum, void of know- 
ledge, but a plenum of positive errors, continually productive of 
unhappiness. This remark was never more apposite than in the case 
of Political Economy.' — Samuel Bailey's Discourses, &c, p. 121. 
1852. 

' If a man begins to forget that he is a social being, a member of 
a body, and that the only truths which can avail him anything, the 
only truths which are worthy objects of his philosophical search, are 
those which are equally true for every man, which will equally avail 
every man, which he must proclaim, as far as he can, to every man, 
from the proudest sage to the meanest outcast, he enters, I believe, 
into a lie, and helps forward the dissolution of that society of which 
he is a member.' — Rev. C. Kingsley's Alexandria and her Schools. 
L. ii. p. 66. 1854. 

' A man will never be just to others who is not just to himself, 
and the first requisite of that justice, is that he should look every 
obligation, every engagement, every duty in the face. This applies 
as much to money as to more serious affairs, and as much to nations 
as to men.' — Times, June 6, 1854. 



ON THE 

IMPORTANCE OF THE STUDY OF 
ECONOMIC SCIENCE 

AS A BRANCH OF EDUCATION FOR ALL CLASSES. 



TT was truly said in this room, some weeks ago, 
-*- by one whose departure from London we must all 
regret — Professor Edward Forbes — that 'It is the 
nature of the human mind to desire and seek a law.' 
The higher desires of man, have not been left, any 
more than his lower, without their object and their 
fulfilment, and just as the bodily appetite desires food, 
while the earth yields stores of nourishment, — as the 
imagination craves for beauty, and beauty is on every 
side, so, responding to man's desire for law, does all 
Nature bear the impress of law. Not to the ignorant 
or careless eye, however, does law anywhere reveal 
itself. The discovery of its traces is the student's 
rich and ever fresh reward. To men in general, the 
outward sense reports only a number of detached 
phenomena; their relations become gradually ap- 
parent to him only whose mental vision is acute 
[ 263 ] X 2 



DR. HODGSON 



enough, and whose gaze is steady enough, to behold 
them. Science, therefore, consists not in the accu- 
mulation of heterogeneous facts, — any more than the 
random up-piling of stones is architecture, — but in the 
detection of the principles which co-relate facts even 
the most dissimilar and anomalous, and of the order 
which binds the parts into a whole. Science is, in 
brief, the pursuit of law ; and the history of science 
is the record of the steps by which man in this pur- 
suit rises through classifications, of which the last is 
ever more comprehensive than its predecessors, from 
the complexity of countless individuals to the sim- 
plicity of the groupe, and from the diversity of the 
many, at least towards the oneness of the universal. 
The discoveries, however, which it needed a Newton 
or a Cuvier to make, may be rendered intelligible in 
their results, if not always in their processes, to ordi- 
nary understandings ; and whether our knowledge be 
superficial or profound, the belief in the omnipresence 
of law, in at least the physical world, has long ago 
taken its place in the convictions of the least instructed 
man. Let any one, then, who can realize mentally 
the difference between the aspect w r hich the starry 
heavens bear to the quite ignorant beholder, and that 
which those same heavens present to the man most 
slightly acquainted with the discoveries of astronomy, 
or between the appearances of the vegetable world 
[ 264 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



before and after some acquaintance with Vegetable 
Physiology; but who has never thoughtfully consi- 
dered the phenomena of industrial life — let such a 
one station himself, say on London Bridge, at high 
tide, and in the busy hour of day; let him watch the 
ever-flowing streams of human beings, each bound on 
his several errand, — the seemingly endless succession 
of vehicles, with their freight, animate and inanimate ; 
let him look down the river, and observe the number 
and variety of shipping, coming and departing from 
and to all parts of the world, remote or near ; let him 
observe, as he strolls onwards, the shops, and ware- 
houses, and wharfs, and arsenals, and docks, with 
their overflowing stores, the almost interminable lines 
of streets with houses of every size and kind, each 
tenanted by its respective occupants ; the railway 
stations from which and to which go and come, hourly, 
thousands of human beings, and the produce of the 
industry of millions of human beings ; the electric 
telegraph, transmitting from town to town — nay, 
from land to land — the outward symbols of thought, 
with almost the proverbial speed of the inward 
thought itself; let him consider that within the range 
of a few miles of ground that produces, directly, none 
of the necessaries of life,* are gathered together more 

* 'Moyhanger, a New-Zealander, who was brought to England, 
was struck with especial wonder, in his visit to London, at the nays- 

[ *6 S ] 



DE. HODGSON 



than 2,000,000 of men, women, and children, at the 
rate, in some parts, of 186,000 to the square mile ; let 
him ponder how it is that all these people are daily 
fed, and clothed, and lodged, — how it is that all these 
things have been produced and are maintained; let 
him further consider that this stupendous spectacle 
is but a sample of what is going on, with great 
varieties, in so many other regions of the world ; that 
people separated by thousands of miles of land and 
sea, who never saw each other, who, it may be, 
scarcely know of each other's existence, are busily 
providing for each other's wants, and each procuring 
his own sustenance by ministering to others' neces- 
sities or desires ; — and then let him, without at all 
losing sight of the too obvious evil mixed up with all 
this, seriously ask himself, is this vast field of con- 
templation the theatre also of law, which binds the 
several parts together ; or is it a mere giddy and 
fortuitous dance of discordant and jostling atoms — in a 
word, a huge weltering chaos, waiting the fiat of some 
Monsieur Cabet or Babceuf to reduce it to order, 
and convert it into a cosmos, by persuading or com- 

tery, as it appeared to him, how such an immense population could 
be fed ; as he saw neither cattle nor crops. Many of the Londoners, 
who would perhaps have laughed at the savage's admiration, would 
probably have been found never to have even thought of the mechanism 
which is here at work.' — Archbishop Whately : Introcl. Led. to Polil. 
Econ. L. iv. p. 97. Second Edition. 1832. 

[ 266 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



pelling the several atoms to adopt some cunningly 
devised principle of so-called 'organization of labour V 
To this question Economic Science professes, at 
least, to supply the answer ; and if science be the 
pursuit of law, and deserve the title in proportion to 
its success in that pursuit, the claims of Economic 
Science must be tested by the nature of the reply it 
gives. 

It may occur to some who hear me that the term 
law is not applicable in the same sense or way to the 
various classes of phenomena which I have casually 
indicated. In the first, — the region of astronomy, — 
law suggests the idea of some mighty force which 
irresistibly compels motions on the grandest scale ; in 
the second, — the vegetable world, — it suggests rather 
a mere principle of arrangement, according to which 
certain unresisting bodies are distributed; while in 
the third, — the Economic World of Man, — a vast 
difference appears between it and the other two, 
inasmuch as we have here a multitude of independent 
intelligences and wills, acting consciously and volun- 
tarily from within, in every variety of direction, and 
often in seeming opposition to each other. This 
difficulty merits a consideration, serious if brief. Be- 
tween the first and second the difference is not real, 
but only apparent. The growth of a plant is as 
wonderful, — as grand an exercise of power as the revo- 
[ 267 ] 



DR. HODGSON 



lution of a planet ; and gravitation, as we call it, no 
more than growth, is in itself a power ; both are alike 
expressions and results of that will which is in the 
universe the only real power — the only true cause. 
Our very word order has a double sense — arrange- 
ment and command : so natural is it for us to identify 
the one with the other, and to believe that arrange- 
ment or system exists only by command or law. 
And, in truth, throughout all things, however diverse 
the special phenomena, whether it be the sweep of a 
comet, or the budding of a flower, we can recognise 
still only a principle or method of arrangement as the 
result of will ; and it is because these are so closely 
and invariably connected in our minds that we are so 
apt to use the word law sometimes for the one, and 
sometimes for the other, personifying Law, just as 
Ave do Providence in ordinary speech. 

The real difficulty, however, lies in the third case, 
that is, the subject immediately before us. Having 
seen the prima facie and analogical improbability of 
the notion that the economic world is lawless, the 
question arises — in what way does law operate amid 
so many seemingly independent and conflicting- 
individualities? I have no desire, and there is 
happily no need, for long or subtle disquisition. I 
would merely submit a consideration in itself quite 
simple, but fraught, if I mistake not, with the most 
[ 268 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



important practical results. In the purely inorganic 
world, law operates irresistibly, and command and 
obedience are strictly coincident, co- extensive, and 
identical. In the motions of the heavenly bodies, 
for example, there is no eccentricity in the popular 
sense of the term • even the orbit of a comet, between 
whose successive reappearances many decades of 
years and whole generations of men pass away, is 
absolutely known — eclipses with the longest intervals 
are certainly foretold. The same fact holds in the 
organized but inanimate world, as in the world both 
inanimate and unorganized. As we ascend in the 
scale, and enter on the animate creation, we find a 
like fixity and uniformity provided for to a very 
large extent by that most marvellous faculty — Instinct, 
which guides almost infallibly the lower orders of 
animals, which maintains an almost precise sameness 
among the most distant generations, and conducts 
all surely and unconsciously to the end of their 
being. But Man is a being vastly more complex in 
his nature; he, too, has instincts, but these form a 
much smaller proportion of his whole faculty ;* with 
all that the lower orders of being have, he has much 

* ' It would seem that it is in the proportion which their instincts 
and intelligence bear to each other that the difference between the 
mind of man and that of other animals chiefly consists. Reasoning 
is not peculiar to the former, nor is instinct peculiar to the latter.' — 
Psychological Inquiries. By B. C. B. London. 1854. P. 186. 
[ 269 ] 



DR. HODGSON 



more besides — moral faculties, reason, and will, both 
the latter differing vastly in degree, if not in kind, 
from those of any other creature. The part which 
he has to play in creation is proportionally complex ; 
and here it is that perplexity, and discord, and con- 
fusion begin to appear, or at least chiefly manifest 
themselves. It is this surface confusion which hides 
from us the central and pervading Law, and makes 
it difficult to trace its operation. The laws or con- 
ditions, however, which determine human well-being, 
are really as fixed and absolute as are the laws of 
planetary motion ; but man, though so constituted 
as to desire and seek his well-being, has not an in- 
fallible perception of that in which it consists, or of 
the means by which this end is to be attained. We 
find throughout, this distinction between man and 
the lower animals. Thus other animals are gifted 
by nature with the clothing suitable to their con- 
dition, and it even varies in colour and thickness 
according to the seasons. Man alone has with effort 
to construct what clothing he requires ; so, more or 
less, is it with food ; so is it with shelter. Is this an 
inferiority on the part of man? Surely not; for it 
is by this very discipline that his higher faculties 
are called into play, and enlarged, and strengthened. 
What appears a penalty is, in reality, a blessing. 
Nature's very provision for the comfort of bird or 

[ no 1 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



beast seems, at the same time, the sentence of inca- 
pacity for improvement. Man, however (I speak 
now of the individual), is progressive, being capable 
of improvement; and he is stimulated to improve- 
ment because his wants are not supplied for him, 
but he is compelled to supply them for himself, and 
his desires ever grow with the means of their gratifi- 
cation. The whole universe is thus, in truth, a great 
educational organization — a great school, — for the 
calling out and the direction, of what powers are in 
man latent. But his progress is not a smooth 
advance from good to better ; his way lies through 
evils of many kinds — evils attendant inseparably on 
defective knowledge, and ill-regulated desires. Law, 
which in the physical universe operates vNi-formly, 
here operates, so to speak, m-formly ; the law wears, 
Janus -like, two faces ; but it is one law nevertheless. 
It assumes, however, a twofold sanction, reward for 
obedience, punishment for disobedience, each being 
but the complement and corollary of the other. 
Thus the pallid face and irritable nerves of the 
sedentary student, the ruddy cheek and iron muscles 
of the ploughman, — the trembling hand and blood- 
shot eyes of the drunkard, the steady pulse and 
clear open countenance of the temperate man, — are 
the results not of two antagonistic laws, but of one 
law, vindicating its majestic universality in the one 
[ "7« ] 



DE. HODGSON 



case not less than in the other. So is it Tvith the 
stagnant and pestilential swamp as contrasted with 
the cultivated plain; the ruined village with the 
thriving town ; the land of inhabitants few hut poor, 
with the land of inhabitants many and rich. It is 
this difference, accordingly, which in the human 
sphere translates Law into Duty, and the Must of 
the Physical World into the Ought of the Moral. 
Wordsworth, the most philosophical of poets, has not 
failed to detect their kinship, however, when, in his 
noble ' Ode to Duty/ he says : — 

Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, 
And fragrance in thy footing treads : 
Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong, 
And the most ancient heavens through Thee are fresh and strong. 

Good, then, being the great end of all the estab- 
lished conditions of our life, evil is, and must ever 
be, the result of their violation. As Paley has said 
that no nerve has ever been discovered whose func- 
tion lies in the giving of pain, so, in all things, pain 
or evil follows the breach, not the observance, of a 
law. But this very pain or evil is not in its end 
vindictive, or simply punitive ; its aim is reforma- 
tion for the future, not merely punishment for the 
past. The child burns its finger in the candle- flame, 
cuts its hand with a knife, makes a false step and 
falls, and profits all its life through by the lessons 
it has gained. And so the exhaustion of mind or 
[ »7»] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



body from over-exertion, the headache from intem- 
perance, are Nature's solemn warnings, tending 
powerfully to prevent future transgression. Man's 
successes and his failures are both, in different ways, 
instructive ; both help him in his career. 

But Man is progressive not only as an individual, 
but as a race. Here, still more, is his superiority 
to all other animals apparent. He is, in some mea- 
sure, the heir of the discoveries, the inventions, the 
thoughts, and the labours, of all foregoing time; 
and each man has, in some measure, for his helper, 
the results of the accumulated knowledge of the 
world. But the transmission of experience and 
knowledge from generation to generation is the 
fundamental condition of progress throughout the 
successive ages of the life of mankind. To a large 
extent, of course, we cannot but profit from the labour 
of our predecessors ; all those products, and instru- 
ments, and agencies, which we style ( civilisation/ 
our roads, our railways, our canals, our courts of 
law, our houses of legislature, and a thousand other 
embodiments of the combined and successive efforts 
of many generations, are our inheritance by birth ; 
but the very guidance and employment of these 
for their improvement, or even for their mainte- 
nance, require ever increased knowledge and intelli- 
gence. The higher the civilisation that a commu- 
l>3] 



DB. HODGSON 



nity has attained, the more, not the less, necessarv 
is it that its members, as one race succeeds another, 
should be enlightened and informed. No inheri- 
tance of industrial progress can dispense with indi- 
vidual intelligence and judgment, any more than the 
accumulation of books can save from the need of 
learning to read and write. But thousands of 
human beings, born ignorant, are left to repeat 
unguided the same experiments, and to incur the 
same failures and penalties as their parents, — as their 
ancestors. Where these stumbled, or slipped, and 
fell, they too stumble, or slip, and fall, rising again 
perhaps, but not uninjured by the fall. Nature 
teaches, it is true, by penalty as well as by reward; 
but it is surely wise, as far as may be, to anticipate 
in each case this rough teaching, to aid it by rational 
explanation, and to confine it within safe bounds. 
The world, doubtless, advances in spite of all. * 
That industrial progress is what it is, proves that the 
amount of observance of law is, on the whole, largely 
in excess of its violation ; were it otherwise, society 
would retrograde, and humanity would perish. This 
predominance of good results from the very consti- 
tution of human nature and of the world, by which 

* ' There is this difference between the body politic and the phy- 
sical frame. Life is ' a harp of thousand strings, that dies if one be 
gone;' but the life of society is still living and tuneful, though many 
strings be broken.' — Times, June 8, 1854. 
[ 2 74 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



the individual, working even unconsciously and for his 
own ends, and learning even by failure, achieves a 
good wider than that he contemplates, and by which 
progress, in spite of delay and fluctuation, is main- 
tained alike in the individual and the race. But 
how shall the evil which yet mars and deforms our 
civilisation be abated, if not removed, while progress 
is made more rapid, and sure, and equable ? Both 
depend alike on increased observance of law; and it 
is by diffusing knowledge of its existence and opera- 
tion that observance of law is rendered more general 
and less precarious. If, then, we would convert 
not only disobedience into obedience, but obedience 
blind, unconscious, and precarious, into obedience 
conscious, intelligent, and habitual, we must teach 
all to understand the nature of the laws on which 
the universal wellbeing depends, and train all in those 
habits which facilitate and secure the observance of 
those laws.* 

Assuming, then, that in the industrial or economic 
sphere the laws of human wellbeing are as fixed as 
in any other, and that what measure of wellbeing 
we anywhere behold is the result of obedience, con- 
scious or unconscious, to those laws, we ought next 
to inquire what those laws are. As a preliminary, 
let us take a hasty survey of the steps by which 

* Vide Appendix. 

[ ns ] 



"DR. HODGSON 



any people ascends from barbarism to civilisation, 
from destitution to comfort, from poverty to wealth. 
From the review alike of good and of evil, we shall 
be able to extract the principles which run through- 
out, and which both good and evil concur to attest. 
In barbarous countries we find men scattered in 
small numbers over wide extent of territory, living 
by hunting or fishing, or both combined ; every man 
supplies his own wants directly; he makes his own 
bow and arrows ; he kills a buffalo for himself ; with 
hides stripped and dressed by himself, he constructs 
his own robe or tent ; he lives from hand to mouth, 
feasting voraciously to-day, then starving till another 
supply of food can be obtained ; ever on the verge 
of famine, and eking out a precarious subsistence by 
robbery and murder, which he calls war. All but 
the strong perish in early years, and the average 
duration of life is low. If we contemplate the 
pastoral life instead of that of hunting and fishing, 
still we find that large tracts of country are needed 
for the maintenance of few people. If the earth be 
at all cultivated, it is with the rudest implements, 
and the produce is proportionally scanty. So long 
as each man is entirely occupied in providing for his 
own wants, progress is impossible. So soon, how- 
ever, as by the gradual and slow introduction of 
better implements, and the acquirement of greater 
[ 276 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



skill, agriculture becomes more productive, and the 
labour of one man becomes sufficient for tiie support 
of more than one, of some, of many ; the first condi- 
tion of progress is realised, and the labour of some 
or many is now set free for other occupations. Food 
and clothing, fuel and shelter, are the first neces- 
saries of life. But instead of every man preparing 
all these for himself directly, instead of every man 
making for himself all that he requires, gradually 
one man begins to construct one article, or set of 
articles only, while another devotes himself to another, 
with a consequent great increase of productiveness 
in each case, from increased skill and economy of 
time ; in other words, the division of labour is begun. 
But so soon as the industry of the community is 
thus divided, and that of each thus restricted, as 
each still requires all the articles which before he 
constructed for himself, he can obtain them only 
from those who employ themselves in their produc- 
tion ; and this he can do only by giving some of his 
own product as an equivalent, in other words, by ex- 
change. This transaction gives meaning to the term 
value, which denotes simply the amount of commodi- 
ties that can be procured in exchange for any other 
commodity. Division of labour and exchange are 
thus simultaneous in their origin. From the intro- 
duction of exchange, industrial progress gains a fresh 
[ 277 ] Y 



DR. HODGSON 



life. Industry having been thus rendered more 
productive than before, subsistence is now provided 
for a larger number of persons than before. The 
reward of industry increasing with its productive- 
ness, ingenuity is stimulated to the invention of im- 
proved methods, and of improved instruments called 
tools, or, as they become more complicated and 
powerful, machines, though a machine is in principle 
only a tool ; and the very argument which is good, 
if good at all, against a steam-plough, is good against 
the common plough, or a hoe, or a spade, or a stake 
hardened in the fire. 

Population having meantime increased, the land 
available for production becomes more and more 
fully appropriated; and as one portion is more fertile, 
or more advantageously situated than another, it 
becomes more advantageous to pay a portion of the 
produce for the right to cultivate a more productive 
soil, than to cultivate an inferior soil even for 
nothing; e.g., to pay ten measures of grain for a soil 
which produces fifty measures, than nothing for 
a soil which produces, say thirty or thirty-five; and 
hence arises what we call rent. But, meantime 
also, the productiveness of industry having become 
ever greater in proportion to the consumption of its 
produce, the process of accumulation goes on, and 
the unconsumed results of previous labour, which, 
[ *78 1 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



however various their kinds, we term wealth, swell 
to larger proportions. But this wealth is not equally 
possessed by all ; one man, from superior skill, or 
intelligence, or economy, or other causes, coming to 
possess more than others, while some, it may be, 
possess none at all. Mere labour, however, without 
the results of foregone labour, embodied in some 
form, can accomplish little; while the results of 
foregone labour, in whatever form embodied, need 
fresh labour in order to become still more productive. 
Thus, e.g., a spade is a result of past labour; without 
it the labourer could accomplish little ; and, on the 
other hand, the spade, without a labourer to wield it, 
would be unproductive. Now, the spade here repre- 
sents that portion of wealth which is devoted to 
further production, and which is called capital. 
Capital and labour are thus indispensable to each 
other. They may exist in different hands, or in the 
same; but they must co-exist, and co-operate. Thus 
— if we suppose them to be in different hands — the 
owner of the spade, whom we may call the capitalist, 
may undertake to give the labourer a fixed compen- 
sation for his labour aided by the spade (an amount 
which will more or less exceed, and can in no case 
fall below, what the labourer without the spade can 
earn), reserving for himself any surplus that may 
arise after that labour is paid. In this case, the 
[ 279 ] Y 2 



DR. HODGSON 



labourer's reward is called wages; the capitalist's 
reward is called profit. Or the capitalist may lend 
the spade to the labourer for a fixed return (which 
will be somewhat less than, and which cannot exceed, 
the difference in the labourer's productiveness, caused 
by the spade), the labourer claiming as his own all 
that he can realise over and above what he pays. 
In this case, the labourer's return, whatever it may 
be called, is partly wages and partly profit, while 
the capitalist's return is termed interest, or much 
better, usance, an obsolete English word, for it is 
really what is paid for the use of capital in any 
form. If the capital and labour be in the same 
hands, e.g., if the labourer own the spade he uses, 
the joint return ever consists of the two items here 
discriminated. 

As industry extends and wealth increases, it is 
early found necessary to provide for the security of 
property; for the suppression of violence and fraud; 
and for the settlement of disputes that will here and 
there arise, even without evil intention on either 
side. Hence all the machinery of courts of justice, 
and of government, from its highest to its lowest 
functionary. As these, though not in themselves 
directly producers, are indispensable to production, 
and exist for the welfare of all, they must be main- 
tained at the expense of all; hence comes taxation 
[ 280 J 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



of various kinds, which it is the business of the 
legislature to impose justly, and in the way least 
likely to fetter industry, and prevent increase of 
wealth. 

So far as we have hitherto seen, exchanges have 
as yet been effected by direct giving and taking of 
commodity for commodity, or, as it is termed, 
barter; but great and serious difficulties attend this 
system, difficulties ever more deeply felt as exchanges 
multiply, and become more various ; the baker may 
not want the shoemaker's shoes, if the latter want 
his bread; but the latter may not want as much 
bread as equals the value of a pair of shoes; and 
payment by a half or a third of a pair of shoes is 
impossible. A medium of exchange, accordingly, is 
introduced; usually the precious metals, as they are 
called, the very word implying one of their fitnesses 
for the task — viz., that in a small bulk they contain 
great value. The non-liability to decay; capability 
of division without loss; comparative exemption from 
fluctuations of supply; and facility of recognition, are 
among their other claims. Exchange, thus facilitated 
by the adoption of a medium which all are ready to 
receive, and by which most minute proportions 
of value may be easily represented, proceeds with 
vastly increased rapidity; and value being thus 
measured habitually in money, we have the new 
[ 281 ] 



DE. HODGSON 



element of price. Though money in itself is but 
a very small portion of the capital, and still less of 
the total wealth, of a nation, it so habitually repre- 
sents every kind of capital and wealth, that it 
conveniently becomes a synonyme for both, not, 
however, without some risk of mental confusion and 
error as the result. 

Exchanges becoming thus continually more fre- 
quent and complicated, it is found convenient and 
advantageous, on the principle of the division of 
labour, that a class of men should devote themselves 
to conduct the business of exchange solely, the work 
of production being left to others. By the intro- 
duction of merchants, who do not themselves produce, 
a greater amount of production is attained, on the 
whole, than would be possible if all both produced 
and exchanged without their intervention. 

But, for facility and frequency of exchange, even at 
home, rapidity, and ease, and safety of communication 
are indispensable ; good roads, swift conveyances, 
canals, and ultimately railways arise, with their ad- 
juncts of carriers and couriers, and post-establish- 
ments, and telegraphs of ever greater ingenuity and 
efficiency. 

Exchange, which was at first confined within the 
limits of one country, soon extends to other countries, 
with an immense advantage to all, for all are thus 
[ 282 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



made partakers in the productions of each, which 
are more and more diverse according to their diversity 
of climate. Foreign commerce, with all that it 
involves of ships, and docks, and warehouses, is the 
most powerful stimulus to home industry. But ex- 
change, whether at home or abroad, is, in all cases, 
when analyzed, simply each man's giving something 
that he wants less, for something else that he wants 
more. 

As geographical knowledge and means of transit 
are increased, numbers pass from one country to 
another ; from countries densely to those less densely 
peopled ; from countries where land is all appropriated, 
to those where it is still unclaimed; from countries 
where capital and labour are comparatively unpro- 
ductive, to those where both are more amply re- 
warded; new fields being thus perpetually opened 
up for human industry, and increased enjoyment 
provided by fresh and ever augmented interchange, 
both for those who go and for those who stay. 

But long ere this, as yet the highest, stage of pro- 
gress has been reached, the precious metals them- 
selves have been found incompetent to discharge the 
full duty of exchange; and paper money, or duly 
vouched promises to pay money, is introduced with 
an ever more complicated machinery of bank-notes 
and bills of exchange, for the management of which 
[ *» 3 ] 



DR. HODGSON 



class of transactions a still further division of labour 
is introduced by means of bankers, bill-brokers, and 
the other agents by whom what we call compre- 
hensively credit is carried on. 

But life and property are subject to contingencies 
which involve serious loss, and which it is impossible 
always to prevent. It is discovered that the evil 
results to individuals, which would be ruinous to 
one, may, by combination, be distributed over many. 
Hence insurances against fire, against death, against 
disaster at sea, against hail-storms and diseases 
among cattle, against railway accidents, and even 
against fraud on the part of clerks or other 
assistants, all of which are based on calculation of 
averages, this again being based on the conviction 
that a certain regularity prevails among events even 
the most anomalous and irregular. 

And thus, step by step, by a strictly natural 
course, does the work of industrial progress go on, 
till we witness its gigantic results in our own time 
and our own land — results of which the great 
Crystal Palace (the opening of which was not in- 
aptly coincident with the day fixed for this exposi- 
tion of the principles whose triumph it exemplifies) 
may be justly regarded as the crowning and most 
various illustration — raised, as it has been, by volun- 
tary combination, on strictly economic grounds, and 
[ 2 8 4 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



embracing within itself, in one vast space, ex- 
amples of the productions of the labour, the inge- 
nuity, the fancy, the skill, the science of all ages 
and of every land. 

In this inevitably brief and incomplete sketch of 
the industrial progress of the world, not only has 
much been omitted, but it is to be observed that 
the steps do not always follow each other in precisely 
the same order, and that much that is here recorded, 
perforce, successively, takes place simultaneously. It 
is not possible here or now to extract from even this 
most hasty sketch the merely theoretic principles 
which it involves. This is the business of a long 
course of lectures, and it is not, besides, my purpose 
to expound Economic Science itself, any further than 
may be indispensable to show its importance as a 
branch of general instruction. Let us rather look 
at some of the great practical lessons that may be 
deduced from it for the guidance of individual 
conduct. 

Everything, then, that we or others possess, is 
more or less the result of human, that is, of indi- 
vidual, industry. It is observable that not where 
nature itself is most prolific is human labour the 
most productive; so true is it that necessity is the 
mother of invention and of industry as well. Truly 
has Rousseau remarked, ( In the south, men consume 
[ 285 ] 



DE. HODGSON 



little' (lie might have said produce little) ' on a 
grateful soil; in the north, men consume much/ (and 
of course produce much) ' on a soil ungrateful/* 
Where man has most done for him, he often does 
least for himself; and though his labours must be 
seconded by the productiveness of Nature, the latter 
is really more dependent on the former than the 
former on the latter. Now this law holds true of 
the future as well as of the present or the past. 
Every human being must subsist on the produce 
of his own industry, or on that of some one else. 
Industry, then, is the first duty of him who would 
be honourably independent. 

But it is not by present labour, any more than by 
future, that any man is really sustained. While the 
crop is growing, for example, the labourer is fed by 
the grain of former harvests. Now, if the produce of 
labour were consumed as fast as it is produced, not 
only would progress be impossible, but life itself would 
be endangered, and would ere long cease. Hence the 
duty of what is called, in its narrower sense, economy, 
or the frugal and prudent consumption of what has 
been produced. Disasters, too, will arise, which no 
human wisdom can prevent, but against whose conse- 
quences it may provide. The very progress of industry 
involves displacement of labour, though it is not true 

* Emile. Liv. I. 
[ 286 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



that labour is so superseded, as the phrase is. The 
invention of printing threw amanuenses out of then- 
old employment, though it soon employed a thou- 
sand men instead of one. During all such transi- 
tions, it is only by previous savings that those thus 
affected can be maintained till they can adapt them- 
selves to the change. Again, the early years of 
every human being are incapable of industrial effort, 
and the child must be maintained by the previous 
labour of others. Upon whom this duty fairly falls, 
whether on some abstraction that we call the State, 
or society, or on the parents of the child to whom 
his being is due, is a question which needs less to 
be asked than merely to be suggested here. Again, 
the years of labour are limited ; the evening of that 
night approaches in which no man can work, and 
here is another call on the proceeds of past industry. 
The very old, as well as the very young, must be 
supported alike by foregone labour ; in the case of 
the young, it must be by the labour of others ; in 
the case of the old, it must be either by their own 
previous labour, or by that of their children now 
grown up, or by that of society at large — which way 
is best is surely not doubtful. During the years of 
active life itself, sickness will sometimes invade, 
throwing men often for long periods on the resources 
of the past. Hence the necessity of forethought as 
[ *7 ] 



DR. HODGSON 



regards equally the future of others whom affection 
and duty alike commend to our care, and our own, 
when the days of decay and weakness shall arrive. 
Now, forethought involves judgment, and diligence, 
and self-denial. i. As to judgment. Earnings may 
be saved, but if injudiciously invested, they may be 
lost. To take a simple case, — hoarded potatoes are a 
more precarious economy than hoarded grain ; and 
so throughout where savings are invested through 
banks, or building societies, or railway shares, or in 
any other way. The division of labour itself calls 
for ever fresh exercise of judgment. So long as 
each man produces all that he wants for himself, he 
knows precisely what he wants, and how much ; but 
so soon as labour is divided, each man produces not 
what he wants himself, but what others want, or are 
supposed to want. If, then, any one produce by 
mistake articles which others do not want, or of a 
quality, or to an extent at variance with the demand, 
he suffers serious loss, it may be ruin. 2. As to 
diligence. Without this, labour is little different 
from idleness. But mere labour, however diligent, 
can accomplish little unless guided by intelligence, 
for which, as the demands of society increase, there 
is an ever louder call. Knowledge, then, is indis- 
pensable to the attainment of any beyond the lowest 
results of industry. The more we know of the 
[ 288 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



nature of that on which, and by which, and in which, 
and for which, we work, the more likely, nay cer- 
tain, is our work to turn to good account. This 
knowledge, when embodied in practice and confirmed 
by it, becomes skill. The very tools and machines 
which some fancy supersede human labour and skill, 
are the results of both, and they render the former 
infinitely more productive, and call for ever more of 
the latter for their improvement, if not for their 
actual guidance. 3. As regards self-denial. One of its 
most important forms is temperance, without which 
labour, especially of the higher kinds, is precarious, 
it may be impossible. As society advances, the re- 
lations of man to his fellows become more and more 
numerous and complex. Credit, as it is well called, 
holds a larger and larger place, and reliance on each 
other's faith becomes more and more important. 
Honesty, accordingly, whether in its lower forms, 
such as punctuality, or in its higher, to which we 
give the name integrity, is thus an indispensable con- 
dition of human progress. Were the exceptions to 
this condition to become much more frequent, the 
bonds of human society would be proportionally 
loosened, and civilisation would go backward. In 
scarcely a subordinate degree are civility, courtesy, 
mutual forbearance, and willingness to oblige, neces- 
sary to oil the wheels of the social machine, which, 
[ 289 ] 



DR. HODGSON 



without these, would move but slowly and creakingly 
along. These things we all need in our own case ; 
and to be received, they must be given. 

It is only in so far as all these qualities of dili- 
gence, and economy, and skill, and forethought, and 
intelligence, and temperance, and integrity, and 
courtesy, have been manifested, that wealth has been 
created, and that society in any age or country has 
advanced. It is just in so far as these have been 
neglected that poverty, and misery, and evil, of every 
kind, abound. Such are some of the chief practical 
lessons of Economic Science when rightly studied. 

And will any one ask, ' Are these mere truisms 
the boasted results of economic teaching ?' In reply, 
much may be said. What is a truism to one mind, 
say to all here, may be really unknown to thousands 
beyond these walls. In such subjects, again, the 
profoundest truth is ever the simplest. It is its 
very simplicity that blinds us to its value and com- 
prehensiveness. Further, we are so easily familiarized 
with the mere names of duties, and so accustomed 
to assent with the lips to their obligation, that we 
neglect to consider either their basis or their prac- 
tical working. We go on daily assenting to truths 
we daily violate ; it is not uncommon to lecture on 
ventilation in rooms whose atmosphere is stifling ; to 
eulogize economy in the midst of reckless expendi- 
[ 2, ;° ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



ture; and health is sometimes injured by very dili- 
gence in the study of its laws. "What men all want 
is not merely the discovery and promulgation of new 
truth, however useful, but the freshening up of old 
truths long ago admitted. The coins which we carry 
about with us, and which pass continually from hand 
to hand, have had the sharpness of their edges 
worn off, their legend all but effaced. We need to 
have them cast anew into the mint of thought, and 
re-stamped with their original 'image and super- 
scription/ Rote-teaching is pernicious in morals 
not less than in merely intellectual matters. The 
explanation of a law, its demonstration, should ever 
go hand in hand with its inculcation. For the sake 
of those who may say, or at least think, ' All this 
we knew long ago/ let me use an illustration from 
the quite parallel case of Physiology. In my younger 
days I was accustomed to hear much vague talk 
about air and exercise; on all hands I heard that 
nothing was so good as exercise and fresh air. Well, 
so long as the restless activity of boyhood lasted, 
there was less need for instruction on this head ; 
boys take fresh air and exercise in blind obedience 
to a blessed law of their nature. But when youth 
came on, and intellect became more mature, and 
books began to push cricket from its throne, all the 
rumour about air and exercise was quite inoperative 
[ 2 9i ] 



DR. HODGSON 



to prevent long days and late nights of sedentary 
position, of confinement in close rooms, of hard work 
of the brain, while the circulation of the blood was 
impeded, the lungs laboured, the muscles lost their 
energy, and the skin its freedom of transpiration 
and its vigour to resist agencies from without. 
When, like most of you, I listened in delight to the 
beautiful expositions of my immediate predecessor, 
perhaps I was not alone in thinking that, had we all 
been taught in early life the economy of the lungs, 
and heart, and blood-vessels, and brain, — had we 
been shown that the blood which nourishes the body 
must be purified by frequent contact with the outer 
air ; that for this purpose it passes frequently through 
the lungs, receiving from the air fresh life, while 
its impurities are thrown off; that in the process 
of breathing, the air is rapidly deteriorated and ren- 
dered unfit to sustain life, constant renovation 
being thus required; that by muscular compression 
consequent on exercise, the circulation is quickened, 
as well as the breathing, so that the blood is thus 
more rapidly purified, the effete particles of matter 
are more quickly removed, and our bodies in truth 
more frequently and healthfully renewed, — we should 
many of us have been spared much suffering and 
much loss of power arising necessarily from violation 
of the vital laws. And so with Economic Science. 
[ 2 92 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



It is of no avail to repeat by rote phrases about 

industry, and temperance, and frugality, &c. The 

results of the observance and of the violation of those 

duties, as exemplified in the actual working of social 

life, must be clearly shown, and so enforced that the 

knowledge shall be wrought into the very tissue 

and substance of the mind, never to perish while 

life lasts, so that all things shall be brought to 

the test of the principles thus incorporated with 

the intellect itself. Further, in the case of both 

sciences alike, mere teaching, or addressing of the 

intellect, even if that be convinced, is not all, or 

enough. Training must accompany teaching ; the 

formation of habits must go on with the clearing of 

the intellectual vision. I speak not of schools 

alone, or of homes alone ; in both must the embryo 

man be accustomed, as well as told, to do what is 

right. He who has once learned by habit the delight 

and the advantage of daily ablution of the whole 

body, or of daily exercise in all weathers, in the open 

air, will not easily abandon or interrupt either of 

these habits. And so with industry and the rest. 

Every fresh act of obedience is no longer, as it were, 

the effort of a distinct volition, but an almost 

automatic repetition of an act first commanded by 

reason. This conversion of the voluntary into the 

spontaneous is the true guarantee for perseverance in 

[ 293 ] z 



DR. HODGSON 



any line of conduct, the excellence of which has 
been already recognised by the understanding. 

The analogy between the Physiological and the 
Economic Sciences, both in their nature and in their 
present position, seems to me to hold throughout. 
Thus ignorance does not in either confer any exemp- 
tion from the evils attending the breach of any law, 
however it may be admitted in extenuation at the bar 
of human justice. The child who takes arsenic for 
sugar, dies as surely as the wilful suicide. The 
youth launched on this busy world without any 
of the knowledge here indicated, finds Greek iambics, 
and even conic sections, of no guidance in its indus- 
trial relations, and he suffers and fails accordingly. 
What is the inference ? That ignorance should be 
removed, and evil prevented, by early teaching, 
rather than left to the bitter regimen of experience. 
Coleridge has finely compared experience to the 
stern lights of a vessel, which illuminate only the 
track over which it has passed. It is for us rather 
to fix the light of knowledge on the prow, to illu- 
mine the course which the ship has yet to take. It 
would surely be a great gain were all offences against 
economic law reduced to the category of wilful dis- 
obedience, in spite of knowledge ; for such, I firmly 
believe, are, especially at the outset, vastly the 
minority. 

[ 2 94 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



Again : Health, much as it depends on individual 
observance of its laws, is greatly dependent on their 
observance by others also. The profligate parent 
transmits a feeble and sickly organization to his 
child; just as opposite conduct tends to the opposite 
result. The pestilence which foulness in one part of 
a city has bred, extends to other parts ; and the con- 
sequences of the offence spread far beyond the 
original offender. So, economically, does each man 
suffer for others' transgressions besides his own. 
The idleness, and wastefulness, and intemperance of 
parents entail hunger, and raggedness, and every form 
of misery, on the unhappy children. The indus- 
trious, and provident, and honest members of the 
community are stinted in their means for the sup- 
port of the idle, and improvident, and dishonest, and 
for their own protection against the depredations of 
those who seek to live by others' labour rather than 
their own. No law of our existence is more sure 
than this. It is idle to cavil or complain. Let us 
rather see how the recognition of this law should 
affect us. What is the practical inference? It is 
that the interests of humanity are one ; that through- 
out mankind there is, in French phrase, a solidarity, 
which renders each responsible, in some measure, for 
the rest. The policy of selfish isolation is, therefore, 
vain, as well as sinful. We suffer from our neglect 
[ 295 ] Z 2 



DR. HODGSON 



of the well -being of our fellow-men. The gaol fever, 
which the gross negligence of prison authorities pro- 
duced in former days, slew the juryman in the box, 
and even the judge upon the bench. And it is not 
in purse alone, or even chiefly, that we suffer from 
the existence of the destitute, or the depraved. The 
great mountain of human evil throws its dark, cold 
shadow on every one of us ; in such an atmosphere 
our own moral nature droops and pines; and just 
proportioned to the mental elasticity which attends 
every successful effort to spread good around us, is 
the numbing and hardening pressure of that great 
mass of vice and misery which we feel ourselves im- 
potent to relieve. 

One more analogy I would briefly note. We 
know how common quack medicines are. Why is 
this ? Because, through ignorance of physiological 
laws, people are silly enough to believe that any 
nostrum can exist potent to repair, as by a magic 
spell or incantation, the evil results of their own 
neglect of health and its conditions. To such people, 
talk about air and exercise, and washing, and regular 
diet, and early hours, and temperance, and alterna- 
tion of labour and rest, is very uninteresting and 
commonplace. To a similar class of persons, dis- 
course on diligence and economy, and forethought 
and integrity, is very dull. ( What is the use of all 
T 296 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



your chemistry/ said the old lady, ' if you cannot 
take the stain out of my silk gown V And by tests 
not less narrow and erroneous are the teachings of 
science, whether economical or physiological, often 
tried. But a change is coming over the public 
estimate of the latter, at least in this respect. Pre- 
vention is being ever more thought of than cure; 
or, in technical phrase, the prophylactic claims, and 
now receives, more attention than the therapeutic 
portion of the physician's art. Pure water, and fresh 
air and light are now, almost for the first time, 
really recognized as the fundamental and indispen- 
sable conditions of health; and baths, and drains, 
and ventilators, and wash-houses, are fast encroach- 
ing on the domain of the blister and the lancet, the 
pill and the black draught. Now, what systems 
of the treatment of disease are to Sanitary Phy- 
siology, Poor-laws and Charitable Institutions and 
Criminal Legislation are to Economic Science. It 
aims at preventing the evils which those seek to 
deal with as they arise. The attempt may never 
quite succeed; but its success will be exactly pro- 
portioned to the vigour and unanimity with which 
it is made. It seeks to treat the source of the 
disease, rather than the mere symptoms. It is 
only as the former is removed that the latter will 
disappear. By all means let no palliative be ne- 
[ 297 ] 



DR. HODGSON 



glected in the meantime, but let no cure be expected 
therefrom. Efforts to perfect systems of poor-laws, 
or criminal laws, however excellent or useful, must 
be abortive, because the very existence of the evils 
which these address is abnormal; and it is for the 
removal of these wens and blotches on the social 
system that we must strive, not for their mere abate- 
ment by topical applications, or the rendering of them 
symmetrical and trim. Wisdom and Benevolence 
here meet, and are at one.* 

Yet persons are not wanting who meet our desire 
that Economic Science should be taught to all, and 
especially to the young, by the cry that ' it tends to 
make men selfish/ In reply, I will not content 
myself with saying, in the words, of Shakspere, ' Self- 
love is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting/ I go 
much further, and assert that this teaching, if pro- 
perly conducted, has precisely the opposite tendency. 
Its great purpose is, to show how the community is 
enriched by the industry of the individual, and how 
the value of individual industry is measured by its 
result in enriching the community. It wholly dis- 
owns and condemns every mode of enriching the 
individual at the general expense, or even without 

* In the text I have merely pointed out analogy. Here let me 
hint at dependence. Is not the economic difficulty the main ob- 
stacle to sanitary arrangements ? 

[ 2 9§ ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



the general advantage. Thus, the merchant who 
brings a commodity, say tea, from a country where 
it is cheap to one where it is dear, and gains a profit 
by the transaction, fulfils the conditions of Economic 
Science. He serves at once the community in which 
he lives by bringing an article from a place where it " 
is less, to a place where it is more, wanted; and the 
community with which he trades by giving them in 
exchange for the article they seU something that 
they value more. But the man who enriches himself 
at the gaming-table, or by other means more or less 
resembling the picking of pockets, does injury, not 
service, to the community. He is wholly out of the 
pale of Economic Science; he maybe a chevalier 
dhndustrie, in the French sense, but Economic Science 
disowns his industry, and condemns him as a wasteful 
consumer of what others have produced. It teaches 
every man to look on himself as a portion of society 
and widens, not narrows, his views of his own calling' 
And here I cannot but express my deep regret that 
one to whom we all owe, and to whom we all pay 
so much gratitude, and affection, and admiration, for 
all he has written and done in the cause of good-I 
mean Mr. Charles Dickens-should have lent his great 
genius and name to the discrediting of the subject 
whose claims I now advocate. Much as I am 
grieved, however, I am not much surprised, for men 
[ 2 99 ] 



DR. HODGSON 



of purely literary culture, with keen and kindly sym- 
pathies which range them on what seems the side of 
the poor and weak against the rich and strong, and, 
on the other hand, with refined tastes, which are 
shocked by the insolence of success and the ostenta- 
tion incident to newly-acquired wealth, are ever most 
apt to fall into the mistaken estimate of this subject 
which marks most that has yet appeared of his new 
tale, Hard Times. Of wilful misrepresentation we 
know him to be incapable; not the less is the mis- 
representation to be deplored. We have heard of a 
young lady who compromised between her desire to 
have a portrait of her lover, and her fear lest her 
parents should discover her attachment, by having 
the portrait painted very unlike. What love did in 
the case of this young lady, aversion has done in 
the case of Mr. Dickens, who has made the portrait 
so unlike, that the best friends of the original cannot 
detect the resemblance. His descriptions are just as 
like to real Economic Science as ' statistics' are to 
' stutterings/ two words which he makes one of his 
characters not very naturally confound. He who 
misrepresents what he ridicules, does, in truth, not 
ridicule what he misrepresents. Of the lad Bitzer, 
he says, in No. 218 of Household Words: — 

Having satisfied himself, on his father's death, that his mother 
had a right of settlement in Coketown, this excellent young econo- 
[ 3oo ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



mist had asserted that right for her with such a steadfast adherence 
to the principle of the case, that she had been shut up in the work- 
house ever since. It must be admitted that he allowed her half a 
pound of tea a year, which was weak in him : first, because all gifts 
have an inevitable tendency to pauperize the recipient ; and, secondly, 
because his only reasonable transaction in that commodity would have 
been to buy it for as little as he could possibly give, and to sell it for 
as much as he could possibly get ; it having been clearly ascertained 
by philosophers that in this is comprised the whole duty of man — not 
a part of man's duty, but the whole. — (p. 335.) 

Here Economic Science, which so strongly enforces 
parental duty, is given out as discouraging its moral 
if not economic correlative — filial duty. But where 
do economists represent this maxim as the whole 
duty of man ? Their business is to treat of man in 
his industrial capacity and relations; they do not 
presume to deal with his other capacities and rela- 
tions, except by showing what must be done in 
their sphere to enable any duties whatever to be dis- 
charged. Thus it shows simply that without the 
exercise of qualities that need not be here named 
again, man cannot support those dependent on him, or 
even himself. If it do not establish the obligation, 
it shows how only the obligation can be fulfilled. 

Let me once more recur to physiology for an illus- 
tration. The duty of preserving one's own life and 
health will not be gainsaid. Physiology enforces this 
duty by showing how it must be fulfilled. But, if 
one's mother were to fall into the sea, are we to be 
told that physiology forbids the son to leap into the 
[ 3oi ] 



DP.. HODGSON 



waves, and even peril his own health and life in the 
effort to save her who gave him birth ? Physiology 
does not command this, it is true; this is not its 
sphere ; but this, at least, it does, — it teaches and 
trains to the fullest development of strength and 
activity, that so they may be equal for every 
exigency — even one so terrible as this ; and so pre- 
cisely with Economic Science. 

Again, we are told it discourages marriage : — 

'Look at me, ma'am,' says Mr. Bitzer. ' I don't want a wife and 
family. Why should they ?' 

' Because they are improvident,' said Mrs. Sparsit. 

' Yes, ma'am, that's where it is. If they were more provident, 
and less perverse, ma'am, what would they do? They would say, 
'While my hat covers my family,' or ' while my bonnet covers my 
family,' as the case might be, ma'am, ' I have only one to feed, and 
that's the person I most like to feed.' — (p. 33&.) 

Does this mean that men or women ought to rush 
blindly into the position of parents, without thinking 
or caring whether their children can be supported by 
their industry, or must be a burden on that of 
society at large ? If not, on what ground is prudent 
hesitation, in assuming the most solemn of all human 
responsibilities, a subject for ridicule and censure ? 
Is the condition of the people to be improved by 
greater or by less laxity in this respect ? 

But not merely are we told that this teaching 
(which, by the way, scarcely exists in any but a very 
few schools), tends to selfishness, and the merging of 
[ 302 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



the community in the individual; it has, it seems, 
also, a quite opposite tendency to merge the indi- 
vidual in the community, by accustoming the mind 
to dwell wholly on averages. Thus, if in a city of 
a million of inhabitants, twenty-five are starved to 
death annually in the streets, or if of 100,000 persons 
who go to sea, 500 are drowned, or burned to death, 
we are led to believe that Economic Science disregards 
these miseries, because they are exceptional, and 
because the average is so greatly the other way ! 
Now, though in comparison of two countries, or two 
periods, such averages are indispensable, Economic 
Science practically teaches everywhere to analyze the 
collective result into its constituent elements, — in a 
word, to individualize. It teaches, for example, 
that every brick, and stone, and beam of this build- 
ing, of this street, of this city, has been laid by some 
individual pair of hands ; and it urges every man to 
work for himself, and to render his own industry 
ever more productive, surely not to rest in idle 
contemplation of the average of industry throughout 
the land. It is his duty to swell, not to reduce that 
average. So with prosperity. I am quite unable 
to see what tendency the knowledge of that average 
can have to discourage the effort to increase it. 
Besides, it is a fundamental error to confound mere 
statistics with economic science, which deals with 
[ 303 ] 



DR. HODGSON 



facts only to establish their connections by way of 
cause and effect, and to interpret them by law. 

But were it otherwise, with what justice can eco- 
nomic instruction be charged with destroying imagi- 
nation, by the utilitarian teaching of ' stubborn facts/ 
Why should either exclude the other ? I can see no 
incompatibility between the two.* By all means let 
us have poetry, but first let us have our daily bread, 
even though man is not fed by that alone. It is the 
Poet Rogers who says, in a note to his poem on Italy, 
' To judge at once of a nation, we have only to throw 
our eyes on the markets and the fields. If the 
markets are well supplied, and the fields well culti- 
vated, all is right. If otherwise, we may say, and 
say truly, these people are barbarous or oppressed.' 
Destitution must be removed for the very sake of 
the higher culture. If we would have the tree fling 
its branches widely and freely into the upper air, its 
roots must be fixed deeply and firmly in the earth. 
But enough of this subject, on which I have entered 
with pain, and only from a strong sense of duty. 
The public mind alas ! is not enlightened enough to 
render such writing harmless. 

* On this score, I have personally no misgivings. Seventeen years 
ago, I delivered and published a lecture, in which I urged the exer- 
cise of the imagination, or aesthetic culture, in the youthful training of 
all classes. My convictions are at least as strong now as they were 
then. 

[ 304 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



Hitherto, I have spoken only of those great prin- 
ciples, and the duties flowing therefrom, which per- 
vade the whole subject. But if these principles are 
the most comprehensive, there are very many others 
which, in the practical affairs of life, it is most 
important thoroughly to understand, and which it is 
the peculiar business of Economic Science to ex- 
pound. It is an error to suppose that in matters 
touching men's 'business and bosoms/ even though 
of daily and hourly recurrence, instruction is not 
needed, and that 'common sense ' is a sufficient 
guide. Alas ! common sense is widely different from 
proper sense. It is precisely in these subjects that 
error most extensively prevails, and that it is most 
pernicious where it does prevail. In matters far 
removed from ordinary life and experience, pure 
ignorance is possible, perhaps; and, in comparison, 
little mischievous. But in those which concern us 
all and at all times, it is alike impossible to be purely 
ignorant and to be ignorant with impunity. If the 
mind have not right notions developed at first, it will 
certainly have wrong ones. Hence we may say of 
knowledge what Sheridan Knowles says of virtue : 
f Plant virtue early ! Give the flower the chance 
you suffer to the weed P 

The minds of most men are a congeries of maxims, 
and notions, and opinions, and rules, and theories 
[305 ] 



BR. HODGSON 



picked up here and there, now and then, some sound, 
others unsound, each often quite inconsistent with 
the rest, but which are to them identified with the 
whole body of truth, and which are the standard by 
which they try all things. This fact explains a 
remark in a recent school report, that it is far easier 
to make this science intelligible to children than to 
their parents ; — no doubt, just as it is easier to build 
on an unoccupied ground, than on one overspread by 
ruins. And so, not only is it possible to teach this 
subject to the young ; but it is to the young that we 
must teach it, if we would have this teaching most 
effective for good. For further evidence of the 
general need for this kind of instruction, it suffices to 
look around us, and test some of the opinions prevalent 
lately or even now. And here there is much of interest 
that might be said, did time permit, of still prevail- 
ing errors regarding strikes, and machinery, and 
wages, and population, and protection, and taxation, 
and expenditure, and competition, and much more 
besides. But into this field my limits forbid me 
even to enter. Let me, however, refer you to a 
most admirable series of lessons on The Phenomena 
of Industrial Life, and the Conditions of Industrial 
Success* which has recently appeared under the 
editorship of that zealous educationist, the Dean of 

* Price 2s. Groombridge, Paternoster Row. 
[ 306 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



Hereford. The appearance of this book, and the 
recognition of this subject in the last Report of the 
National School Society, are cheering signs that the 
omissions of past ages in our school systems on this 
head are not destined much longer to continue. 

The programme of this lecture speaks of the 
importance of Economic Science to all classes. It 
would be a serious error to suppose that its advantage 
is confined wholly, or even chiefly, to those who 
depend on daily labour for daily bread. Even were 
it so, in the midst of frequent and rapid changes of 
position, the rich man becoming poor, as well as the 
poor man becoming rich, this kind of teaching would 
still be important for all classes. But the capitalist 
not less, it may be said even more, than the labourer, 
needs instruction. He has been styled the captain 
of industry ; it is for him to marshal, and equip, and 
organise, and pay its forces, and to guide their march. 
Any mistake on his part must be widely injurious. 
The wise employment of capital is a most momentous 
question; for it determines the direction of the 
industry of millions, and affects the prosperity of all 
coming time. From the class of the rich, too, are our 
legislators chiefly chosen. To them this kind of 
knowledge is important just in proportion as, in 
their case, ignorance or error is most pernicious. Of 
the aristocracy of our day, were old Burton living 
[ 307 ] 



DP. HODGSON 



now, lie would scarcely say what lie said of those of 
his own time : ' They are like our modern Frenchmen, 
that had rather lose a pound of blood in a single 
combat, than a drop of sweat in any honest labour.'* 
The contagion of industry has spread to them; and 
idleness is less than ever confounded with nobility. 
But there is ample room for further progress. If 
wealth, even economically considered, involve in- 
creased responsibility, it calls the more loudly for 
enlightenment and guidance. 

Again, on the side of expenditure, or consumption, 
does this subject especially concern the rich. As 
supply ever follows demand, it is by this that pro- 
duction is mainly guided. Shall it run in the 
direction of sensuality and self-indulgence, or shall 
it flow in better and more useful channels? Me- 
morable are the words of Lord Byron in his later 
days in Greece : — 

The mechanics and working classes who can maintain their 
families are, in my opinion, the happiest body of men. Poverty is 
wretchedness ; but it is perhaps to be preferred to the heartless, 
unmeaning dissipation of the higher orders. I am thankful I am 
now entirely clear of this, and my resolution to remain clear of it for 
the rest of my life is immutable. + 

At this most suggestive topic I can barely hint. 

* Anatomy of Melancholy. 
t Last Days of Lord Byron. By W. Parry, 1825. p. 205. 



[ 308 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



Much beside I am forced wholly to omit. But I 
must not pass in total silence the claims of this 
subject on the attention of the other sex. For- 
tunately, little needs be said within this Institu- 
tion, of whose audience at lectures on every subject 
ladies form perhaps not the smallest, and certainly 
not the least attentive portion. Surely I shall not 
be told that a superficial sketch, such as mine, is for 
them unobjectionable, but that the serious study of 
the science is, in their case, to be discountenanced. 
If any kind of knowledge can do harm to any living 
being, it is just this very superficial knowledge. It 
is like the twilight which, holding of day on the 
one hand, and of night on the other, mocks the 
senses with distorted appearances which thicker 
darkness would hide, but which a broader daylight 
would dispel. In truth, women have a special interest 
in this subject. The part they play in industrial 
pursuits depends much on conventional circumstances, 
and varies in various countries ; but in all, their 
influence in the region of expenditure is vastly great. 
Who shall say how deeply the welfare of families 
and of society at large is involved in this ? Again, 
the domain of charity is peculiarly feminine ; and 
the benevolent impulse, ever so ready to spring up, 
needs to be guided to the prevention, rather than to 
the relief, or what is too often, in fitter phrase, the 
[ 309 ] A A 



DK. HODGSON 



indirect increase of misery. Well does Thomas 
Carlyle (no friend of the dismal science, as he loves 
to call it), in his quaint, odd way, exclaim : — 

What a reflection it is that we cannot bestow on an unworthy- 
man any particle of our benevolence, our patronage, or whatever 
resource is ours, — without withdrawing it, and all that will grow of 
it, from one worthy, to whom it of right belongs ! We cannot, I 
say ; impossible ; it is the eternal law of things. Incompetent 
Duncan M'Pastehorn, the hapless incompetent mortal to whom I 
give the cobbling of my boots, — and cannot find in my heart to refuse 
it, the poor drunken wretch having a wife and ten children ; he 
withdraws the job from sober, plainly competent and meritorious 
Mr. Sparrowbill, generally short of work, too ; discourages Sparrow- 
bill ; teaches him that he, too, may as well drink and loiter and 
bungle ; that this is not a scene for merit and demerit at all, but for 
dupery, and whining flattery, and incompetent cobbling of every 
description, — clearly tending to the ruin of poor Sparrowbill ! What 
harm had Sparrowbill done me that I should so help to ruin him ? 
And I couldn't save the insalvable Mr. Pastehorn : I merely yielded 
him, for insufficient work, here and there a half-crown, which he 
oftenest drank. And now Sparrowbill also is drinking !* 

Between the Lady Bountiful of olden times, with 
her periodical distributions of coals and blankets, 
and simples and cowslip wine, who regarded the 
poor as her pets, her peculiar luxury, of which, did 
they cease to be mendicants, she would be cruelly 
deprived, — and the Mrs. Jellyby, whose long-ranged 
benevolence shoots in a parabolic curve far over 
what is near, to descend on what is remote, hurrying 
past and above St. Giles or Wliitechapel, and 

* Model Prisons, p. 24 ; Latter-Bay Pamphlets, No. 2. 
[ 3«o ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



exploding on ' Borrioboola Gha;' between these widely 
distinct forms of what is called in both alike Charity, 
there is room and there is need for women of 
judgment as clear as their sympathy is earnest, who 
can think for themselves, as well as feel for others ; 
who shall not so do good that evil may come, but 
rather help the feeble to self-help, and, while they 
raise the fallen, look mainly to ' forestalling' others 
1 ere they come to fall/ 

Up to this point I have spoken solely of one class 
of advantages attending the teaching of Economic 
Science. But, as you have been told oftener than 
once during this course, the teaching of every branch 
of knowledge has, in different degrees, two sorts of 
advantage; ist, in increasing man's outward resources; 
2nd, as a means of mental discipline and inward 
culture. Of the second of these advantages I can 
now say but little. It is wholly unimportant to 
discuss the comparative claims of different subjects 
in this respect. The difference among them is, 
perhaps, rather of kind than of degree. Mathe- 
matics discipline one set of powers, metaphysics 
another; or in so far as both exercise the same 
powers, it is in different ways. I claim no 
monopoly, I arrogate no superiority. I simply 
assert the educational value of this subject, with- 
out prejudice to any other, and all the more 
t-3« ] 



DR. HODGSON 



strongly, because it has been and is so sadly 
neglected. Surely, those subjects which have the 
most direct and powerful bearing on human well- 
being, and which treat of some of the most import- 
ant relations between man and man, cannot be edu- 
cationally less efficient than other studies which 
concern man less closely and directly. And I leave 
it to you who have heard even this most imperfect 
and hurried exposition, to judge whether it can fail 
to be a most improving mental exercise to sift such 
questions as the relations and laws of price, of 
capital and labour, and wages and profits, and 
interest and rent, and to trace to their origin, and 
follow to their results, the fluctuations affecting all 
these in our own and other countries, in our own 
and other times. As regards the other sex, on this 
ground, at least, there can be no doubt, even if the 
former admitted of hesitation. To women and to 
men, this discipline is alike valuable : for women it 
is even more necessary; for men are inevitably 
brought more into contact with the world and its 
affairs, and so have the defects of their early teaching 
in part corrected. It is well, at the same time that 
the understanding is exercised, to foster an interest 
in human welfare by an enlarged comprehension of 
its conditions. We hear little now of the policy 
or propriety of confining woman's studies to super- 

[ «■ ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



ficial accomplishment. It were an error, scarcely 
less serious, to confine them to inquiries which 
leave the individual isolated from the race. 

Let me not, in conclusion, be supposed to ignore, 
because I would not invade, other, and (by com- 
mon consent) the most sacred grounds on which 
the moral aspects of this subject may be viewed. 
Let the duties on which human welfare, even indus- 
trially considered, is dependent, be enforced else- 
where, by reasons too high for discussion here. But 
surely this ground, at least, is in common to religious 
sects of every variety of creed and name. Surely it 
is a solemn and cogent consideration that the very 
fabric of our social being is held together by moral 
laws, and that the man who violates them, outlaws 
himself, as it were, from the social domain, and 
rouses into armed hostility a thousand agencies 
which might and would otherwise fight upon his 
side. Not only the profligate, the gambler, the 
swindler, and the drunkard, but the idle, the reck- 
less, the unpunctual, the procrastinating, find here 
a bitter but wholesome condemnation ; and the very 
science which is ignorantly charged with fostering 
selfishness, teaches every man to estimate his labours 
by their tendency to promote the general good. 
Nor is it unimpressive, as regards even what Words- 
worth so finely calls 

[3x3] 



DR. HODGSON 



The unreasoning progress of the world,* 
to watch how the social plan is carried on by the 
composition of so many volitional forces, each bent 
on its own aims. ' The first party of painted savages,' 
it has been well said, ' who raised a few huts upon 
the Thames, did not dream of the London they were 
creating, or know that in lighting the fire on their 
hearth they were kindling one of the great foci of 
Time.' . . . ' All the grand agencies which the progress 
of mankind evolves are formed in the same un- 
conscious way. They are the aggregate result of 
countless single Avills, each of which, thinking merely 
of its own end, and perhaps fully gaining it, is at 
the same time enlisted by Providence in the secret 
service of the world/f If law be indeed the expres- 
sion of an intelligent and benevolent will, reverence 
and obedience towards the great Lawgiver must surely 
be fostered (mark, I do not say created) by the study 
of his laws, and the contrasted results of their observ- 
ance and their violation. And, finally, as regards that 
practical religion whose testing fruit is effort for the 
good of man, — a study which shows so clearly that 
human welfare is involved in obedience to fixed laws, 
and that obedience, to be reliable, must be based on 

* ' In the unreasoning progress of the world 
A wiser spirit is at work for us, 
A better eye than ours.' — Wordsworth. 
+ James Martineau. 

[ 3X4 ] 



ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



knowledge of their existence and authority, must 
surely stimulate the extension of this needful know- 
ledge among all classes of the people. In this light, 
it is abundantly apparent that, sacred as is the duty 
of acquiring knowledge, the duty of diffusing it is 
not less sacred ; and that knowledge is no exception 
to the divine precept — c It is more blessed to give 
than to receive/ 



Appendix, p. 275. 

Political Economists, with but slight exception, have neglected 
to urge universal Teaching and Training in the Economic laws as 
the condition indispensable for the most beneficial working of those 
laws themselves. Misled by physical analogies, e.g., between the 
relation of supply and demand, and the rising and falling of water as 
it seeks its level, they have failed practically to recognise that human 
motives and human will are ever the key-stone in the arch which 
bridges over the interval between economic cause and effect. To 
Mr. Samuel Bailey belongs (so far as I know,) the credit of having 
first clearly established this truth — simple as it is — in his Essay on 
Tlie Uniformity of Causation, published in 1829. The same writer 
in his Discourse on Political Economy, (1852, p. r 09), thus writes: 
' The object of Political Economy is not to ascertain all the laws by 
which wealth is produced and distributed, but only one class of 
them, namely, the moral or mental laws, or in other words, those 
laws of human nature, on which the economical condition of nations 
depends.' It may be doubted, however, whether even Mr. Bailey 
has sufficiently insisted on the great practical inference from his own 
doctrine — the necessity, for all men — of instruction in the nature of 
those laws. Yet here lies the answer to those who point to the 
manifold misery co-incident with our civilization, whether they con- 
tent ■ themselves (like Mr. Carlyle) with angrj' protests against 
' Laissez faire, laissez aller,' or go on, with the French and other 

[ 3X5 ] 



DR. HODGSON ON ECONOMIC SCIENCE. 



Socialists to build up schemes for the entire re-construction of the 
Economic World — schemes which would substitute centralized com- 
pulsion for individual agency, separate or combined, with a tendency 
more or less direct, more or less avowed, to Communism, (or the 
abolition of property and of family,) as their ultimate result. The 
ignorant abuse of human freedom, however, is a reason why men 
should be instructed, not why they should be enslaved. Let but 
enlightenment keep pace with liberty, and it will be found that 
intelligence within will succeed where compulsion from without must 
fail ; and that the free action of the instructed individual is the true 
guarantee for the well-being of the community. To reduce this 
conviction to practice no one has yet done so much as Mr. William 
Ellis — the munificent patron of the Birkbeck Schools.* No one has 
laboured so zealously as he — 

To render with these precepts less 

The sum of human wretchedness, 

And strengthen Man with his own mind.f 

* See Education as a Means of Preventing Destitution, &c. By 
William Ellis, Author of Outlines of Social Economy, &c. 
London: Smith and Elder. 185 1. 

f Byron's Prometheus. 



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